Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Just Grant Me This One

But what you really wanted to know, I'm sure, is the fate of dear little Erekle, whose uncertain disposition troubled my thoughts more than a few times while I traveled. "Here I am enjoying delectable baklava," I'd think to myself, "when Erekle at this very moment, may be frantically trying to loose himself from a trap."

Back at the apartment, I found that a few magazine pages smothered in glue are strewn about the place. I found them, to be honest, because in a stroke of poetic (yet insufficient) justice, I got stuck on one myself. Erekle, naturally, is far too clever to be snowed by such an obvious ruse. But no sign of him.

Today my landlady, Nino, gave me a ring and said, in an endearing fit of pathos, "Your little mouse friend said to tell you goodbye."

I think it's clear what happened.

Offended by the paper-and-glue treatment, he simply showed himself the door and found a house more to his suiting. In the country. On a farm. Where there's lots of room for him to run and be happy.

Alternative interpretations of the foregoing events are emphatically not welcome and would be considered in very poor taste.


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