Snippet of Something Strange and Wonderful

 There once was a mouse named Prescott Softpaws Jr. He lived with his family at 325 Denver street London. Life there was ordinary, sneaking crumbs and avoiding the humans, until one day not so long ago.

Pescot was tired of everyone telling him it was too dangerous to go out of the mouse hole by himself. He wanted to show them he was just as quick and just as agile as the rest of them. 

So one day, after making sure no one was watching, he scurried out of the hole and right into the kitchen of the grand house. Perfect, since all he wanted from his endeavors was a crumb of the delicious smelling something or other on the counter. 

But to reach it? There! A broom leaned against the counter. If he could just climb it…

You see, living at 325 Denver street was no picnic for mice. The Reganards, the humans that lived there, not only had something against mice, much to Pescot’s confusion, they also like everything spic and span. The counters were polished, the floor was scrubbed, even the broom was  shiny.

But Pestcot was not afraid of a slippery broom. But what if the humans saw him? If they knew there was at least one mouse in their house they would surely call an exterminator.

He shuddered at the thought. 

Maybe he should’ve come back at night. But no, he couldn’t give up then! 

He took a breath and scurried across the cold white kitchen tiles and tried the broom. There wasn’t much grip, but he was able to slowly climb. He was inching is way close to the wonderful chocolate something when, 

a boy walked in.

Prescott froze. The boy wore a blue jacket and a pair of khaki slacks. He was reading a book oddly titled, “Something Strange”.

Pescot didn’t know whether to stay as still as possible or run. Either way he knew he would get caught.

 The boy’s olive eyes flashed up from the pages long enough to see the gray little rodent on the broom.

He shrieked, dropping the book and jumping onto a chair.

“Miss Judy! MISS JUDY!!!” the boy shouted, clinging to the back of the chair.

Oh dear. Pescot slid off the broom.

“Miss Judy there’s a-”

“Wait!” Prescott exclaimed.

The boy’s eyes widened. “Y-you just…MISS JUDY!!” 

“SHH! Please!” he pleaded, softer then. “Just…calm down.”

The boy paused, and looked at Prescot. “Okay.”

Prescott relaxed. “You know, you’re quite wimpy for a boy.”

“And y-you’re quite large for a mouse,” the boy replied. “And you can talk!!”

“Well you can talk, so why can’t I?” Pescot sighed, exasperated. “Let’s start over; My name is Prescott Softpaws Jr.” he said proudly. “What’s yours?”

“I’m Robert E. Reginald,” he sighed. “And my father’s going to kill me if he ever finds out I was talking to a mouse. Then again, he would probably take me to the doctor to examine my head first.”

“So Robert, I need you to promise, and I mean promise to never tell anyone about us mice, can you do that for me?” Prescott asked.

Robert hesitated, considering the offer, and slowly stepped off the chair.

“I…” 

Prescott’s ears twitched with the sound of high heels click-clicking down the banister stairs.

Robert’s face filled with horror. He was so pale his freckles stood out like crumbs on a napkin.

“Hide!” he rasped as the footsteps drew closer.

Prescott, not knowing where else to go, jumped up the broom and behind the cake. A terrible idea, but he was hidden.

“Robert, are you alright?” a tall lady with bouncy orange curls holding a brown handbag strutted in.

“Oh, yes I’m good. Fine! Never been better Miss Judy!” Robert answered nervously.

“I just thought I heard you-” Miss Judy tripped over Robert’s discarded book. “How many times do I have to tell you to pick up after yourself!” she sighed, picking it up.

“Sorry,” Robert muttered.

“Well, call me if you need me, I have business to attend to!” she turned on her heel and left without another word out the double doors.

Prescot let out the breath he had been holding.

“Thank you,” he smiled, stepping from behind the cake. “You are different from other boys.”

Robert grinned. “And you are different from other mice!”

“I hope to see you again,” Prescot said, sliding down the broom as before.

“Me too,”

And with that, the two newfound friends went their separate ways. 

That is how Robert and Prescott's story begins.