Homing Mouse

HOMING MOUSE

  by

  Wilde Blue Sky

  * * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Homing Mouse

  Copyright © 2012 by Wilde Blue Sky

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  The author would like to thank Louise for her support in editing this work and also Conore for the artwork.

  Note to reader - if you appreciated this short story please, if you are able, make a small donation to a charity of your choice.

  ********

  Homing Mouse

  Rolo sat on the theatre’s roof and nudged a chunk of toffee coated popcorn with his paw. Normally he’d wolf it down, but today he didn’t feel like it. He prodded his tummy. ‘I can’t believe Squeak and Froggy think I’m overweight.’ He sucked in his stomach then let it out with a wobble. ‘It’s just puppy fat.’ He looked again and sighed. ‘I’m fat.’ He flicked the piece of popcorn with his tail and it disappeared over the roofs edge.

  ‘Froggy and Squeak are chatting – being all brainy. Louise is riding around on her motorcycle. I’m stuck here all on my own.’ He shrugged his shoulders and looked up into the sky. A series of bright odd shaped dots appeared in the distance. He scratched his head. ‘I wonder what they are.’ Slowly the dots moved closer and Rolo watched with an open mouth as one huge balloon after another, each with a basket full of people beneath it, floated overhead. ‘Amazing.’

  The air was filled with the sound of thrashing wings, Rolo ducked down. A pigeon landed with a mighty thud and rolled over in a tangled heap.

  Rolo stared at the jumbled mass of feathers in amazement. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Bit of a bad show old boy. You couldn’t lend an old pilot a hand could you?’

  Rolo rushed over and helped the pigeon up.

  ‘Thanks old boy. The name is Roger. Captain Roger of the RAF.’

  Rolo looked at Roger and couldn’t help imaging that he saw a moustache under his peak and a monocle on one eye. ‘I’m Rolo. The RAF?’

  ‘Yes, the Royal Air Feathers. I’ll just check that the equipment is all ship shape.’ He flapped one wing. ‘That one is good to go.’ He gave a slight movement of the other and yelped, ‘Ouch!’

  ‘Anything wrong?’

  ‘Unfortunately got into a tangle with an enemy fighter – German, an Alsatian, he managed to take a chunk out of one of my wings. He had dam sharp teeth! Blighter!’

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got any medical training?’

  ‘No. But a friend recently nursed someone back to health.’

  ‘It would be awfully sporting if you’d get them and help an old flyer out.’

  Sixty minutes later, Squeak was busy looking at Roger’s wing. As Squeak prodded it, Roger flinched. ‘Ouch! Steady-on old boy. The equipment has taken a bit of a battering.’

  Squeak said, ‘Sorry. Looks like you won’t be able to fly for a while.’

  ‘Dashed nuisance. Need to report back to base.’

  Squeak asked, ‘What were you doing on the ground?’

  Roger blustered, ‘Can’t say old boy - let’s just say I was on a mission.’

  Squeak raised an eyebrow.

  Rolo seemed a little star struck and mumbled, ‘You can stay here and we’ll look after you.’

  ‘Dashed good of your to offer old man.’

  Two days later Squeak made his way to the roof of the theatre. Rolo and Roger were in their usual position. Roger was waving his wing. ‘I remember travelling through France, a few years back. We were trying to get our bearings so we could make it back to Blighty. We tried to talk to a few of the locals, but couldn’t understand a word they said. We saw a train with London written on the front. Of course we just hopped on board and travel back first class. I find you get a better class of crumbs in first class.’

  Squeak twitched his whiskers. Ever since Roger’s had joked Squeak was a pipsqueak and should be called Pip, Squeak had bristled at the sound of his voice.

  Rolo nodded vigorously. ‘I want to see the world. Do you think I could fly?’

  Roger peered at Rolo. ‘Unfortunately you haven’t got the equipment.’

  Rolo shrugged. Then a balloon floated past. Rolo pointed. ‘Couldn’t I fly in one of those?’

  ‘Dashed unsafe looking things, but we could give it a go.’

  Squeak stood up on his hind legs. ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea.’

  Roger looked down at Squeak. ‘Well, if it isn’t our little friend Pip. What’s wrong with the boy wanting to fly? At least he’s not content to spend his life scavenging for food and watching films.’

  Squeak huffed. ‘There’s nothing wrong with the life we have here.’

  Roger turned to Rolo, who seemed to shrink into the background, ‘I think we should get you in one of those balloons and let you see some of the world.’

  Squeak stated, ‘Mice aren’t supposed to fly.’

  Squeak and Roger both stared at Rolo, who shuffled his feet then mumbled, ‘I want to fly. I want to be like Roger.’

  Squeak tutted, ‘Suit yourself.’

  As Squeak walked away, Roger could be heard, ‘Don’t worry about the little guy. Well we’ll need to get a basket and some balloons. But first of all you’ll need to get into shape. You know the saying, “Light as a feather”, that’s what you’ve got to be. We’ll have to start an exercise regime.’

  Rolo gulped.

  Later Rolo came down to the den. Squeak asked, ‘Do you want some cheese?’

  Rolo breathed in, licked his lips then shivered. ‘No thanks. Must be strong. Must get into shape if I’m to be a flyer.’

  ‘I understand that you want an adventure but look at what happened to Louise.’

  ‘But I’ll have Roger with me. He’s got a medal and everything.’

  Squeak frowned. ‘A medal?’

  ‘Yes. It’s wrapped around his leg.’

  ‘Isn’t that just his leg band? Isn’t he just a homing pigeon?’

  ‘No he’s a hero. That’s his medal.’

  ‘It’s not a medal. It’s just a tag to identify him.’

  Rolo huffed. ‘No it’s not. You’re just jealous because he’s been places and done stuff while you’ve just spent your time in a boring old movie theatre.’

  ‘It’s not like that.’

  Rolo raised his paw. ‘I’m off to do some training. I need to get into shape if I’m going to be a flyer.’

  For the next few weeks Squeak saw less and less of Rolo. When he did see him, he seemed to be either running or jumping while dressed in a tracksuit with a small cloth band wrapped around his head. Roger was always there pushing Rolo on, ‘Come on Rolo. Another lap. Get down on the floor and give me ten push ups. Feel the burn.’

  One day Squeak peaked out on to the roof. Rolo was ducking and punching the air while Roger was shouting, ‘Jab. Left hook. Right hook. Duck. Punch. Duck.’ In the background Squeak swore he heard music.

  The Roger shouted, ‘Step.’ Rolo immediately bounded to the eight inch high step that ran around the edge of the roof and tried to scramble on to the top of it. As he huffed and puffed, Squeak listened to the words of the music.

  ‘The eye of the mouse,

  A mouse that ate all the cheese and needs to get back on his paws,

>   The eye of the mouse,

  A mouse rising up to the challenge of all the predators,

  The eye of the mouse,

  A mouse that’s staying hungry and getting back into shape,

  The eye of the mouse.’

  After four minutes of struggle, Roger flew over and picked up Rolo’s tail and heaved with all his might to help Rolo on to the step. Rolo immediately punched the air and raised his paws in triumph, as the final words of the song drifted across the roof, ‘The eye of the mouse,’ and the music came to an end with a mighty drum crash.

  As Squeak turned to go he mumbled, ‘Rolo is definitely getting thinner, but he’s nowhere near as fit as the boxer in that film.’

  Six weeks later Roger had recovered and completed a few test flights. Rolo had rigged up, with the help of Squeak (when Roger wasn’t around), a small coffee cup attached to seven balloons. As Rolo climbed aboard his contraption Louise and Squeak looked on.

  Roger flew up into the air. ‘Come on Rolo it’s time to go.’

  Rolo trembled and then started to chew through the string that tethered his balloon.

  Louise waved. ‘Good luck.’

  Squeak shouted, ‘Be careful.’

  Rolo gulped.

  Squeak exclaimed, ‘You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.’

  Roger screeched, ‘Come on Rolo. You want to see the world.