Schnapps at the Mousebar

Sensitive Content: alcohol and drug use in a comedic setting, bar setting, irreverent mentions of mental illness and innuendo.

I remember her hair being gnarly, honestly. The last guys I told about it were so messed up when I said that, I’m glad you’re being more chill. Yeah it was gnarly, nasty. Haha, you can laugh but I’m being honest, D. What was it like? Big. I mean, of course. Long. Yeah, they got that right on the news. Did I watch the news? Oh beans, no. I can’t stand that news guy, with his nose hairs coming right out-

You think I have a thing with hair? Don’t be ridiculous. You see this fur? You see this tail? You think someone like me would have a thing for hair, haha, you’re crazy, D. But you’re right, I kinda hope she does. I mean, I did. Haha not now, not after all that nonsense. Hey can I have a beer? Are you gonna finish that? No worries. Yeah, I miss the scraps. Leftovers. There’s something that makes you feel strong enough leftovers, you know? Yeah. It’s a man’s food, leftovers. Scraps. Nothing frilled and fuss like they put on tv or on that— yeah. Inste, Instagram. Whatever.

I miss the house, to tell you the truth. Not the girl or the scraps, but like, that house, D. Man, you shoulda seen it. Six, eight, ten feet tall, maybe. Huh. Maybe I dun know my big measurements. Stories, you say? Thanks Mike. Huh. Ain’t it be like the humans to count their feet in stories. Their houses in stories. You know what I mean. Crazy I forget these things.

Anyway, yeah, big place. Lots of people rooms, many more little rooms for folks like you and me. I liked the cat. Big old bugger. They painted him so ugly, I know! Poor ‘Satan’s ass,’ that’s what the missus called him. We were laughing, and laughing. Wicked. She was all right, the old lady. She reminded me of your mom, D., no disrespect. See, Mike agrees. Haha, we love your mom, D.! No-nonsense kind of broad, but dang could she whip up a cheese. Remember when she got us those crumpets? Well, left them behind, more like, and gnarly-hair was so busy in her dreamworld with the dog and the horse she ain’t even noticed? Right, hah. Ridiculous.

Anyway, yeah. What did you wanna know about the whole unfortunate incident, D.? I told you about the hair, the, uh— can I have another beer? Oh I didn’t tell you about the hair? Foo, I don’t want to. Fine, I will. Break your little heart, though, my old friend, my old stack-mate. Yeah. She dyes it. Oh-ho, well next time I’ll ask if you’re ready! Ah-ha! Yeah, ain’t that a trip? Famous for them locks of gold, and they’re more like, copper, she’s gotta take a paint-stripper to. Well excuse-me for not knowing how them human hairs paints works! Look at my fur, you think someone this mousy gonna have knowings on bleach and dye? Hah, you’re crazy, Mike.

No, I never liked her. What sort of question is that. We were respectable partners in a respectable house, and you know I am a big witty goth fan— her mom, the missus, the witch lady, that was where it was at, my D. Man. If I could get her to go like us and not go back, I would teach her everything about the crawlspaces up the bannister, haha heyyy, come on, I’m still drinking that. Be a friend, Mike. I know you were into the other sister. We are just spec’alating. We know you can’t become human, oh come on now, Mikey, don’t be woke. No, I can’t become human either, and I don’t think witchy-poo’s magic quite went all like that. Hah, D. says she’d be too respectable a lady to be growing arm furs like that did you hear him?

Man, I love you guys, you rats. Dirty rats, the lot of you. Yeah not me, but you. *hic* scuse my Jersey, boys, it comes back out when I drink schnapps. Yeah.

ANYWAY, did you get about the hair? Dos I have to explain it again? Because I don’t want to. I said enough. Anyway it was gnarly. What can you expect from an attic slave, I mean. Heh, she was dirty all the time. Always cleaning, not even any decency to lick her own fur, unlike you fine folks. You’d think a girl with some pompous princess fantasies and a cleaning fixation would have the decency to lick her own fur. Right? She had all them Tupperware too! The ones on the flip app, there. The shiny big box ones with the snap-on lids and matching colors. She really did. All stacked and plastic, nothing like the stacks we used to live in, Big D. Nah. You ever try to gnaw through sheet plastic? I did once on a dare. Beans. Never again. Lost both my teeth and Satan’s ass was cackling for WEEKS, little bean turd.

So that was this girl’s kitchen. She lived in this big beautiful story house with all these neat tunnel bannisters, and a thicc step momma, and Satan’s ass, and me, and there she was, flipping on them apps, gettin them plastics that you can’t even chew on, wobbling around the house with her boid’s-beyds-BIRD’s nest hair, in some kind of slave-girl daydreaming, and I was just thinking, for what? You know? Me and Satan’s ass together, we ain’t even chase each other, we’re just thinking, “for what?”

Anyway. You saw the tv. You got your own flippy-apps. You know what happened to Cinderepunza, right? Ugly business. Yeah. We don’t even talk anymore, me and those other animals at the house. Too awkward. We think she was drugged. The gooses say she just snapped. Makes sense either way. Explains the gnarly hair. Poor shame. Yeap, she still calls him ‘the prince.’ We don’t know what to do. The horse is still pretty messed up about it. I hear there’s a rooster down the block that got his shrink license, we might hit him up. See what he can do. If maybe he can help.

ANYWAY, it’s been great to see ya, boys. D. Mike. We’ll have to do this again. Yeah I got an appointment with this other voodoo witch lady down the block, friend of the old Missus. Might finally be able to get me out this skin! I might skip it, to be honest with you. I don’t miss the old life, especially after seeing it from the other side. Being a mouse, getting high with the cat and drunk with you fine rodents, beats being the ‘prince’ any day.