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Of Mice and Hawks

by John Benson

One day, a mouse decided to go out for a walk. It was a glorious day, though a little chilly, so he didn’t feel that he really needed to put on his overcoat. He made his way out of the hole where he lived and onto the street.

Now the city where the mouse lived was really quite tame by comparison. Not too many cats, only light traffic and a very low incidence of exterminators. There wasn’t much to fear and the mouse, consequently, wasn’t really afraid of anything in particular. All the same, he made sure that his little .38 automatic was sitting snugly in his breast pocket.

He had been to see his analyst, the crow, quite recently and was feeling particularly positive about life, love and other assorted trivia. And so, as he made his way along the pavement, dodging silly human feet and wishing somebody would just let a piece of fresh cinnamon donut fall to the ground in front of him, he was astounded when suddenly from nowhere a large hawk appeared, swooped down, and grabbed him in its hard, obsidian claws.

By the time he could catch his breath, and get over the horrible sensation of real needles puncturing his body everywhere, he was sailing high in the sky, above the buildings, smog and roving packs of parking police. He looked around and almost fainted. If the hawk let go, he was doomed for sure. Desperate, he called out to his raptor.

"Oi, you up there, what do you think you’re doing? Put me down immediately!"

The hawk looked down at the bleeding furball between his legs with the deadpan eyes of a tax collector, said "Forget it, kid, you’re lunch", and then turned back to the more serious business of flying.

"I’m warning you," said the mouse, "I’m armed and I’m not afraid to fire" (which was a bit of a bluff, because if he fired the hawk would let him go and he’d fall to his death).

"Don’t be stupid," said the hawk, "If you fire I’ll let you go and then you’ll fall to your death".

"Just my luck," thought the mouse, "I get the hawk with a university degree". Nevertheless, he persisted.

"Look, I’m not a violent fellow, but if you push me..."

"Just shut the fuck up," cut in the hawk, "Bloody mice, they’re all the same: I’ve got children to look after, places to go, people to see. Just admit it, you’re a victim, you’ve been one all your life, and now you’re going to die".

Unfortunately for the hawk, this was exactly the emotional block the mouse had recently been trying to resolve with his analyst, and the speech so incensed him that he pulled out his pistol in a rage and shot the hawk straight through the heart without even thinking, killing him instantly.

Just at that moment, they were coming in to land on top of the Coca-Cola sign where the hawk lived, so when the bird released the mouse he fell into a mass of high voltage wiring, frying him to a crisp in a flash and providing a wandering rat and his family with a welcome snack later that afternoon.

Which just goes to show two things. First, it’s not guns that kill people, mice do. And second, walking around looking like a rodent may be detrimental to your health.