So here you go. This is 'Cat and Mouse'.
The cat moved slowly through the barn. Her ears twitched as she heard a movement. Carefully the animal dropped into a hunting position. She turned her head towards the noise and spotted what it was after.
A big, fat mouse was nibbling away at a haystack in the far corner of the barn. His chubby cheeks rippled slightly as he frantically chewed on the dry stalks. The cat's eyes glimmered in the early evening light. This mouse would make a very tasty meal. The cat licked her lips.
At that moment, the mouse turned his head. With a startled squeak, the fluffy rodent turned tail and began to run.
With a look of frustration, the cat gave chase. The cat launched itself forwards, and in three bounding leaps was level with the mouse.
The mouse was aiming for a little hole in the wooden wall of the barn. The cat narrowed her eyes. This mouse would not be the one that got away.
The cat drew up alongside the mouse and in mid-leap, batted the mouse aside. The unfortunate creature tumbled into a wall, and before he could get to his feet, the cat's lithe form closed any means of escape. The cat chose to savour the moment before beginning her feast.
The mouse looked mournfully into the cat's whiskered face. "Go on then," he squeaked. "Eat me."
The cat drew back slightly, surprised. "You can speak?" mewed the cat.
"Of course I can talk!" protested the mouse. "We rodents aren't stupid. It's just that we can't speak clearly when a cat has ripped out our vocal chords."
“Sorry,” mumbled the cat. “I’m not used to speaking with my dinner.”
The little mouse’s bright little eyes dulled slightly. “Yes, you’re going to eat me, aren’t you?” he commented sadly.
“I suppose I am,” said the cat doubtfully.
“It’s just that I have a mate and twelve offspring,” he said. “Who will look after them when I am gone? I fear that they shall not survive without their father.”
“Oh,” said the cat. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for the ball of fluff at her feet, even if she was getting hungrier by the second.
That was when the cat had an idea. The cat smiled inwardly. Maybe she could have some fun with this pathetic bag of meat.
“I’m feeling very charitable this evening,” began the cat, “and what you have said has struck a chord in my heart.”
“What are you saying?” asked the mouse suspiciously. From an early age he had been taught that cats were savage and untrustworthy, and he was wary of this chatty cat. What was she up to?
"I propose that we have a debate," said the cat. "I shall argue that I should eat you, and you will try to convince me that I should let you go. What do you say?"
The mouse hesitated.
"Or I could just eat you," added the cat. "Your choice."
After a brief moment of thought, the mouse realised that he really had no choice in the matter. He might as well play the cat's game.
"Alright," said the mouse.
"Great!" meowed the cat. "Let's begin the debate! You can start."
The small mammal frowned a little mousy frown. How should he start?
The cat sighed. "You don't know where to start, do you?" she said.
The little mouse shook his head.
"Fine," said the cat. "It seems that I must begin." With that, the cat coughed, breathed in deeply and began to speak.
"I, the cat, ruler of this barn and its occupants, have caught this mouse before me here. I argue that I should eat this mouse in order to keep myself healthy and stay true to my feline nature."
The mouse looked suitably impressed. He knew that he could never come up with something as complex and long-winded as that, but he could jolly well try.
"I, one of many mice who live in this barn, has been caught by the cat. I argue that I should not be eaten by the cat for the sake of my family, who would most likely die without me."
The cat nodded her approval. "Well, now that the formalities are over, we can get to business. Let's cut to the chase. Why shouldn't I eat you?"
"Well," began the mouse, "I have a family."
"So? What does that matter to me?" pressed the cat.
"Well, my family need food and fresh nesting materials to survive, and I have to take this to them. Without me, they would die."
"Again, this doesn't really affect me," said the cat. She was fast beginning to think that she would be better off just eating the wretched thing before it completely embarrassed its whole species. The cat's proverbial eyelids began to droop.
"Ah, but one day my children will grow into big beefy adult mice like me!" exclaimed the mouse. "Therefore, if you don't eat me now then you could potentially be gifted with a whole litter of younger mice to eat later on! Consider it an investment with a one-thousand two-hundred percent return guaranteed!"
The cat sat up. The mouse was correct. If he let the mouse live today, the cat could feast on the mouse's latest litter of children in the near future. Still, there was a flaw.
"That is a very good point that you make, my dear mouse," remarked the cat. "However, that doesn't solve the problem of what I'm going to eat for dinner."
"That's simple," said the mouse. "Catch a different mouse."
The cat tilted her head and looked at the mouse sideways. "I suppose I could do that," admitted the cat, "but it takes a lot of effort to catch mice such as yourself. Also, I have another objection to your idea."
The mouse twitched his tail, urging her to continue speaking.
"I mean, would you really condemn a fellow member of your species, a friend maybe, or a future mate, to death because you yourself didn't want to be eaten? I could have the exact same conversation with them, and they'd probably come to the same conclusion. If I was to let off every mouse I caught because I could catch another, I'd never eat anything, would I? Plus, would you really let another die just so that you could live?"
"I see your point," said the mouse.
"I can do better," promised the cat, a sly look creeping into her eyes. The mouse's eyes widened. The cat carried on.
"Let us go back to your children," said the cat. "Everyone knows that there is tight competition between members of the same species. Therefore, if there are less of a species to consume food and territory, it is almost a given that the remaining members will be better fed and less likely to die from starvation. Do you follow me so far?"
The mouse nodded vigorously. The cat smiled inwardly, congratulating herself. All was going to plan.
The cat pressed on with. "Now I eat mice. If there is not enough food for you mice, then you starve to death. This is terrible. Quite apart from anything else, the surviving mice become crunchy and dry instead of juicy and moist."
Beneath her the mouse threw up noisily. The cat hardly noticed. She was on a roll here, and nothing was going to deter her.
"Therefore, I see it as my duty to keep the mouse population down to a manageable level. Without me, you would all kill yourselves, see? So, by eating you, I am helping mouse kind."
The mouse looked thoughtful. "You're right!" he said.
The cat smiled, baring her slightly yellow teeth. It was time for her to make her final move.
"That means that if I were to eat you, your children would in fact have a better chance of surviving life due to the fact that there would be one less mouse eating food that they should be eating."
The mouse looked into the cat's narrowed eyes excitedly, oblivious to the malice contained within them. "I have an idea!" exclaimed the mouse. The cat licked her lips in anticipation. This was what she had been waiting for.
"I think you should eat me!" said the mouse. The cat's mouth watered. She could end this whole thing right now. However, for the sake of fun, the cat was going to keep this going for as long as possible.
"Oh no, dear friend, I could never do such a thing!" cried the cat mockingly. The mouse seemed not to notice.
"But you must!" returned the mouse. "You have convinced me of what is right!"
"Alas," said the cat, "Debating is a double-edged sword. You have convinced me that your point of view is the right one."
"Please, grant me my wish!" pleaded the mouse. The cat gazed down amusedly at the pitiful creature before her. The irony of the situation was supreme: a mouse begging a cat to eat it. The cat realised that the mouse was still gibbering on.
"Look, it gives is both what we want," said the mouse. "I get to give my kids a better life, and you get a tasty meal!"
"Alright then," conceded the cat. The cat lay down on the ground, carefully avoiding the pool of mouse bile, and opened her mouth.
"What do I do now?" asked the mouse uncertainly.
"Just place your head on top of my teeth," she replied.
"What about the dying part? What do you do? I've never done it before."
"Oh, I'm sure it'll come naturally to you," said the cat menacingly.
The mouse plodded forwards and lay his head in the cat's open mouth. Then the cat raised her upper jaw and brought it crashing down.
And as the mouse died, the cat felt an immense sense of satisfaction. She had tricked the mouse into willingly giving its own life. Her plan had worked.
The cat's closed lips curled backwards into a nightmarish bloodstained feline grin, and the lifeless, headless body of the mouse flopped to the floor.
Well that was suitably dire. Such is the beginning of the week in my world. Dire.
Rest assured, I shall be back. There are other stories to tell, insights to give, quotes to quip. I'll probably be back later today, assuming I can think of something to write about. I'm sure to come up with something. After all, thinking is what I'm paid to do. It's my forte. Except on Mondays.
Oh well, go forth and have a good day. Just don't look at any cats in a strange way. They might cotton on.
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