Chapter Seven
“No, Mummy Mouse! You can’t!”
C.K. and Mummy Mouse were in his bedroom, having their first ever argument.
“I cannot possibly allow you to drain the life-force of both my parents. Even if it does mean you will achieve your life-long goal.”
VA-KAH?
“What do you mean, why not?” said a stunned C.K. Then he cried, “Ouch!” when his best friend bit him on the finger and leapt from his hand. Mummy Mouse hit the floor, unhurt, and began to drag his rotted corpse downstairs so he could drain the life-force of Mr. Percy, complete his transformation, and begin his reign as King Mummy Mouse.
C.K. followed behind, trailing Mummy Mouse all the way downstairs, through the kitchen, and over to the den. Without being carried, the journey took Mummy Mouse approximately twenty-six minutes, which allowed C.K. plenty of time to try and talk some sense into his psychotic best friend.
Nothing worked.
Mummy Mouse would have his revenge on the two-legged world.
Bang-bang-bang!
Once they reached the den, Mummy Mouse stood up on his rotted hind legs and knocked on the door. And because he was so close to becoming an all-powerful god, even his tiny mouse-fists made a huge noise like some great powerful beast was banging away at the door instead of a three inch tyrant.
“Who is it?” asked Mr. Percy.
Outside the locked door, Mummy Mouse raised his bony arms in dramatic fashion, opened his demonic red eyes wide, and gave his commands.
FAHHPARRH!
OHHHRAWL! SAHZAAH!
KAH MAAH-MAAAHSS!
After a brief silence, Mr. Percy said, “Sorry, I have no idea what you just said. Please go away!”
“Father?” said C.K. “My best friend is standing right here. He said that—well, actually he demanded that you come out here, relinquish your life-force, and pledge your undying allegiance to King Mummy Mouse.”
“Is that you, C.K.?” asked Mr. Percy. “What are you still doing up? It’s after seven o’clock! You should be in bed. And who is that out there with you? You know you aren’t allowed to have guests in the house. We’ve already had one visitor this month—a policeman, no less!”
“This time it’s someone a lot worse than a police officer,” said C.K. as gently as he could. “Your best bet is to stay locked inside the den. It’s not safe out here. Trust me.”
“Trusting one’s family?” said Mr. Percy. “Don’t be absurd.”
C.K. heard the distinctive clack!—clank!—ka-chink! of the latches being undone one at a time. Mr. Percy always made sure to keep family life separate from home life.
“Hold on!” said Mr. Percy. “I’m having trouble with this last lock!”
“It’s locked from the outside,” said C.K. with his head cast down. “I’m sorry, father. I’ll explain later.”
Mummy Mouse was understandably confused.
Then a sudden scratching noise—like claws—cut through the dramatic silence.
PURRRR-HAK?
“What’s that you asked, Mummy Mouse?” C.K. said. “You were wondering about that strange noise coming from over by the front door?” He tried to sound as innocent as possible in order to throw him off.
HAAK
“I have no idea, Mummy Mouse,” C.K. said, but Mummy Mouse didn’t buy it. “Perhaps with your close proximity to becoming a god, maybe your tiny mouse-ears have become extra sensitive just like mine?”
KALAHAK!
“The closet, you say? Oh, it’s probably nothing…”
In the closet wasn’t nothing.
Plan B was in the closet, probably licking itself with its sandpaper tongue.
Mummy Mouse knew he was being lied to. Being so close to achieving his goal, he had to try very, very hard not to annihilate his best friend. Mummy Mouse would’ve sucked away his best friend’s life-force right then and there, if he could’ve looked directly into C.K.’s eyes.
ZEE-HAAKAAL!
“I can’t, Mummy Mouse,” said a desperate C.K. “Even though I’ve overheard my parents talking about sending me away all throughout my childhood, they decided to tough it out and keep going with the whole parenting bit. Sure, they keep me inside most of the time, but they really are excellent parents, shielding me from the burden of friendship and social interaction. I owe them so much!”
VAAL FAAHKLLAH!
“I know that, Mummy Mouse,” said C.K. “But he’s my only father. I can’t allow you to take away his life-force, Mummy Mouse. I’m sorry.” Slowly, he crept towards the closet by the front door.
“He’s the only role model I’ve got,” C.K. went on. “I know that most kids get their role models from sitcoms and reality TV, but I can’t even watch television! And since you sucked away the life-force of my mother, if you take my father away too, then I’ll be taken away to be raised by some silly, devoted family.”
HAAK VUUUH, MAH?
“I appreciate the offer, Mummy Mouse,” said C.K. “Really, I do. But a mouse is no substitute for a father—even mine. Besides, I can’t reign alongside you until my dying day. I’m only eleven! My attention span isn’t very consistent. I’d get bored dominating mankind.”
Mummy Mouse, so close to becoming a god, was too stunned by the defiant actions of his blind best friend to utterly destroy him where he stood. Thinking it over, Mummy Mouse came to the conclusion that this whole scenario seemed far too convenient. Like the blind boy knew exactly how to protect his father. As if this whole thing was planned out in advance…
WHAH-TAH?
“Sorry about this, Mummy Mouse,” said C.K. as he put his hand on the door handle. It was the very same closet where he used to put a cracker on a plate for his furry white friend, who had since become a blood-thirsty, power-obsessed totalitarian.
With a tear in his eye, C.K. opened the closet door.
“Come on out, Snickers…dinnertime.”
Epilogue
As in most storybook endings, things usually (or hopefully) work out for the greater good. In the case of the Percy family, things worked out rather well for everyone.
Mrs. Percy is still, to this day, living quite peacefully at the Institution. She obeys all the rules, takes her daily medicine, and never complains during all the radical new medical experiments that may one day be useful in helping others like her—people who have lost their juju.
As for Mr. Percy, he dutifully went to visit his wife on a bi-monthly basis, when his schedule allowed, and if the weather was nice. He usually brings her a flower from his garden. They never speak much during these visits, but both Mr. and Mrs. Percy know that communication (especially in a marriage) is highly overrated. And seeing that his catatonic wife was so well-liked by the staff, Mr. Percy saw no reason to bring her home.
C.K. was also getting along just fine. The grief came and went, and he dealt with the loss of his maniacal best friend the best he could. Although he’s gone, Mummy Mouse will always hold a special place in C.K.’s heart.
On the plus side, he could visit Mummy Mouse’s grave any time he liked. He was buried in the backyard, lovingly laid to rest in a tiny homemade tomb, far away from Mr. Percy’s flower garden.
As for all the life-forces that were taken from the neighbors…
Well, C.K. went ahead and kept those. They made him feel good, like drinking nine hundred and ninety-nine energy drinks!
In his final dying moment, Mummy Mouse chose to forgive his best friend for betraying him, and for letting Snickers the cat tear him to shreds. Before he perished, Mummy Mouse uttered one last ancient Egyptian curse, thereby relinquishing all nine hundred and ninety-nine life-forces to the young blind boy who once befriended him, and fed him crackers.
So, although C.K. would occasionally miss having his mother around, he and his father would just have to learn to cope without her.
“Besides,” Mr. Percy would say. “She’s just a quick three-hour drive away! But I heard on the weather channel there’s a thirty percent chance o
f a slight drizzle this weekend…”
In the meantime…
Mr. Percy would have to brew his own coffee. And C.K. would have to make his own PB&Js.
Tevin Hansen is the author of numerous books and short stories. He currently resides in Lincoln, Nebraska, where he enjoys skateboarding, reading half a dozen books simultaneously, and chasing his two small children around the house while singing horrendous versions of children’s songs.
To find out more about Tevin go to: www.tevinhansen.com.
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