The Mouse and the Motorcycle


Due to content that some readers may find offensive, viewer discretion is advised.

NOT:

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Once upon a time there was a mouse.

Due to privacy practices, I can’t tell you her real name, but let’s call her Bonnie.

Bonnie was a normal mouse doing normal mouse-things, except for one little difference. Bonnie had rabies. She occasionally freaked out and bit people. She also had an annoying habit of foaming at the mouth. During moments of sanity though, she was a mouse with big dreams and ideas.

One of her ideas was to start a movement to change the way mice were killed. She figured why suffer the agony of being poisoned with arsenic, or mutilated by a spring trap, or slowly starving to death on a glue trap? Mice should be able to turn themselves in to the Almighty Homeowner and request a more humane death.

This idea was met by those in her mice community with shock and horror. They had difficulty understanding the concept, especially since it came from a crazy mouse.

Lucky for this mouse though, it had a understanding motorcycle friend.

Due to privacy practices I can’t tell you the motorcycle’s real name, but let’s call him “Tommy“.

Tommy and Bonnie had a mutually beneficial relationship. Tommy would go on rides enjoying his freedom, and when he came back, Bonnie would scratch his seat and get the dirt out of his handlebars while he patiently listened and supported her crazy “choose how you die” ideas.

It was an unconventional motorcycle/mouse relationship, but it worked for them.

One day Bonnie had another brilliant idea. She would become the spokesperson for the “stop the insanity” movement, which was a group of mice, with and without rabies, who advocated the use of catnip for treating the painful symptoms of rabies as well as enjoying the buzz from consuming the herb.

She was excited to tell her friend about this latest idea and the extreme measures she was willing to go through to advocate for this cause. As she ran across the street to tell Tommy, a motorcycle came around the corner and ran Bonnie over.

The end.

Moral of the story? Even crazy mice with insane pipe dreams don’t deserve to be squashed.

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Pain-somnia


Pain is my passionate lover tonight, and it laughs at my Medication suitors, who try to lure me away with their promises of comfort and rest. I am captivated by Pain’s domineering presence yet I struggle against its powerful control.

Somehow, I manage to tear myself away from its tethers, to find some solace on the page. To Words I come, bruised and broken. Desperate for distraction. Anxiously awaiting the temporary freedom that comes with being swept away by their magic.

Of course, medical marijuana would be a lot easier, but it’s not legal here yet, and this blog is all about word play, so here I am.

Who’s up for a bedtime story?

Once upon a time there was a mirror. This glass was far from clear.

Children had placed, and replaced stickers on it so much that some of the stickers were no longer recognizable as anything other than dirty adhesive.

There was a lingering smudge from the time the woman drew a heart with “I love you” for her husband after that steamy shower, and where he had quickly replied “more”.

There were even smudges from the dogs nose when he discovered and introduced himself to his reflection.

Of course, the typical toothpaste splatters, occasional hair, and everyday dust and dirt marred its surface as well.

This is not part of the story, but I’m seriously thinking about ditching this and getting some ice-cream. Ice-cream and another pain pill…

What? You think I should finish my story? It’s a story about a mirror. i could spend some time thinking, writing, “reflecting” on the many insights to be discovered, but don’t you think we all spend enough time in mirrors? Get some windex, wipe it down and live your life.

Now, back to that ice-cream…