How to Murder a Mouse

What was the Greater Being thinking when he created mice? That’s one of my Big Questions. I mean, why did he also create birds of prey and snakes and all those other creatures that eat mice. And then, there’s mousetraps and poison. How many ways does he need to kill us? When a question keeps me awake at night, I climb to the fifth floor of our little enclave and sit at Sidney’s feet. Sidney’s been devouring books in the library so long his grey hair is almost black. Books, he claims the Greater Being left. Says he reads the words on the page when the print crosses his tongue. Who am I to question him? I’m just an Informed Mouse. The Informed Mouse of our little enclave. When I asked my Big Question, Sidney pushed up his beret. As always, it’d slips over his left eye. He takes a deep breath and says: the Greater Being wasn’t thinking when he created mice. That he had other things on his mind and mice stepped through the crack. I sink to the floor. All four legs collapse.

What if it’s true?

What Sidney doesn’t know, and I didn’t find out until it was almost too late, is asking Big Questions opens doors. Big Doors. Doors so big it’s terrifying to walk through.

But I want answers.