by Katherine Murphy-McGoldrick

Once upon a time there was an odd collection of teacher mice who worked part-time at a foreign language college in a big city in Asia. They were all from different countries, and had different colored fur, and longer or shorter whiskers, and came from different backgrounds, but somehow these mice got along and cared for one another. The mice shared an office in a tiny, little room in the bottom of a big money-making school. None of the mice had much money themselves, but they enjoyed the adventure of living in a foreign land. The jobs in this city were not good, but there were plenty of them. If the mice worked hard, day and night and weekends and prepped in their sleep, they could save money and build a future. In short, they were just immigrant mice on temporary visas without any perks, but they were happy to be together.

One day a big bad wolf came to the mice faculty room, which for some unknown reason was called faculty room 13, and huffed and puffed and said, "All you teachers who are happily scrunched into this tiny office and who, despite adversities -- like broken printers and bad lighting and insufficient space -- are happy, will be moved. Some of you will move to the 5^th floor, and others to floor 3.5." Here, he was talking about the half floor that was once used for teaching chicks and baby rabbits by some very short mice in some earlier project. It was really just a cubbyhole without much light and it was already occupied by some rather miserable short rats who never smiled.

"Oh no," said Heather Mouse.

"You can’t be serious?" said Downtown Al Brown, the coolest of all the mice.

"That guy’s about as nice as Mussolini," said Frank Mouse under his breath.

But the big bad wolf didn’t hear any of them, nor did he care, and he quickly spun round on his heals, huffed and puffed once more, and went outside to have another big huff and puff in the smoking area. The wolf did not, by the way, go to the cool smoking area, but to the one that all the big administrators frequented which looked like a bus stop. He flicked his ash in one of the big metal ashtrays that always had flames licking out of them and even now spewed forth the most rank and vile plumes of smoke.

The boss of the office was Kate Mouse, but she hadn’t been around when the wolf came by to tell them the bad news. She rolled into the office clucking some circa-1976-joke that she’d just heard for the first time. All the other mice turned to Miss Kate Mouse and said, "I guess you know that we have to move?"

"No," Kate Mouse said, plainly, grabbing a stack of printer paper. "Has the printer worked today?"

"The big smoldering wolf came by and put the wrenches to us," said Frank Mouse.

"I don’t dig it," said Kate Mouse, because everyone was in a phase where they liked to speak in 70’s lingo, "but I am groovin’ on your new threads. Where did you get that rad- party-till-you-drop shirt, Frank Mouse," she continued, tugging on the sleeve of Frank’s new stripped polyester shirt. Then she turned and opened the paper tray for the old Hewlett Packard, giving it a firm jiggle-slam. The type of jiggle-slam that often magically whirred the machine into action.

"Sister, we have to go back further than the seventies for you to comprehend the new topic. We are talking: a giant Tyrannosaurus has just shown up at the door. We are getting turfed out, Babe." Downtown Al Brown said.

Now little Kate mouse didn’t know what to do. Bricks and mortar were not easily found in the new corporate screw-the-part-timer world. "Are you serious? They came by and said we have to get out? Who?"

"Mr. D. was just here reading out the eviction notice. He left those boxes for us to pack up in."

"Really? They never told me," said Kate Mouse, "though they never tell me much."

"Do you think this is sexual discrimination," said Heather Mouse.

Everyone except Heather shifted their eyes to the left and then to the right, in a sort of sly searching, and then let them fall blankly on a wall, the floor, or a shoe, until Downtown Al said, "No, Heather. It’s just plain old eviction, plain old discrimination."

"What are we gonna do," said Evette Mouse, smoothing her spiky Mohawk." I think we should get some sticks and pile them up around Heather and get some matches."

"Evette," said Kate Mouse.

"Just joking. What about we write them a nice letter telling them we decline," Evette said, her eyes making an unrealistic sun.

"I have some nice stationary," said Heather Mouse.

"Let’s get some straw and throw it all around the wolves’ office -- I have some gasoline in the back of my truck," said Frank Mouse.

"Too radical, Dude," said Downtown Al, "we could just throw the straw around the place-- that is, if we actually have any straw?"

"What would that do?" said Evette Mouse.

"Well, straw is more affordable than sticks and would be more difficult for the wolves to clean up. It might send the message," said Kate Mouse, interpretively. "But this is the city. When is the last time you guys saw straw or sticks?"

"Throw straw around. What is this, the farmer in the dale?" said Frank Mouse. "Where can we buy a gun? I hate that guy?"

"Look," said Downtown Al, " Even if we had bricks we couldn’t win at this." And then he stretched his arms over his head, and steadied his pink gaze, " Cats, I tell you, why don’t we just have a good old 70s sit-in. We’ve got the threads…"

"Oh dude, that is so righteous," said Frank Mouse.

"If I wasn’t such a city Mouse," said Evette Mouse, "I’d say, let’s move to the Country, but since that’s out -- I’m into this sit-in thing. I’ve got just the outfit."

"I’m there, " said Frank Mouse.

*********

Evette Mouse started on the plan the next day. She brought in art supplies, pens, markers and paints, and began decorating the moving boxes that the wolves had left. She wrote Peace and Love in big fat letters that looked like chubby fingers, and she hid a secret F-you finger in the "o" of Love.

"What you doin’ there, Evette?" said Frank Mouse, collapsing at the metal desk he shared with two others.

"I’m painting these boxes for the sit-in," said Evette.

"Cool, cool." I’ll help you later." Frank said, and he put his snout down on the desk and closed his eyes.

The markers quietly screamed as Evette dragged their colored noses across each box. Hell no, we won’t go! she wrote. "I feel better just making the boxes," she said. "It feels good just doing something in response to injustice and evil. We should have done this ages ago."

Heather Mouse came in wearing a new gold, black and red kerchief that was tied under her chin like a bonnet.

"Is that a kerchief, Heather?" said Downtown Al, "I haven’t seen one of those since grade three. Do you just wear that to cover your hair in the rain?"

"Well, Al," said Heather, in her Mary-Tyler-Moore-way," I call it a scarf. And yes, it’s to cover my hair."

"Cool," said Al, and he picked up a marker and started splashing color on a box. First he made a few sharp green lines on the white surface. Then he added some jagged lines and a stem. Soon his picture took shape --it was a giant pot leaf.

Evette scolded him. "Dude, this isn’t a record album. We are protesting the eviction."

"You probably think this is a marijuana leaf, don’t you, Evette Mouse?" Al said, giving a very smug nod. "For your information, this is a maple leaf. I am decorating this box with symbols of peace and triumph. The Toronto Maple Leafs won last year and this is a little ice hockey voodoo."

"Good. Glad to hear it. I do apologize. Carry on, Downtown Al Brown." Evette adjusted her shoulders and got back to work.

"Are you going to enter these boxes in an art contest," said Heather Mouse. "I once entered a contest back in l973. That was when my father was sick. What had happened was, my father was working for the hydro company and they had a festival for the kids, well not just the kids, but the adults could enter too, and we went to Charlotte. Have you ever been to Charlotte? Well…."

"Excuse me. I think I’m going to take a break," said Evette Mouse.

"Where’s Adrian Mouse?" asked Downtown Al, because he was the only one who could hush Heather. Adrian Mouse could take whatever Heather was nattering on about, catch it, deflect it, mutate it, and send it back in a baffling polite way that quieted her.

"I don’t know." Evette Mouse said, slipping past the Xerox machine.

*******

Things went pretty much like this for a week: Instead of packing the boxes, each of the teacher mice decorated them with hope and love, and we ain’t moving. In no time the office looked like Berkley. A couple of boxes said, No part-time mouse will be left behind, and one said, It’s our office, stupid, and Frank put fur all over one that said, Vote for Bush, but most of them said decent things like, One desk for every teacher and Office Space Equality for All. The whole office was charged up and aiming for the sit-in. The underpaid mice couldn’t believe they hadn’t done something like this before. They were beginning to think about making a union and going for a pay raise.

Still, they had some difficulties. Adrian Mouse took a few days off mid-week and that gave Heather free reign over the conversation. This coincided with Frank Mouse suffering from some terrible hangovers, and Evette started her new diet, but they carried on. They were getting ready for this sit-in.

*******

A week before the sit-in, Kate Mouse had a terrible realization.

"Guys, I am administration. I don’t know if I can protest. The upper wolves just asked me to make sure the move to goes smoothly." Kate Mouse said, her shoulders hung so low that her paws dangled around her knees.

"What have you got to lose?" said Downtown Al Brown.

"Just my full-time job and all my benefits," Kate Mouse said. She was the only one who had any benefits and her own desk. She got paid all year round and even got a bonus.

"That sucks," said Evette Mouse wrinkling her suede nose. "Can I have a piece of that nice cheese you have there?"

"Sure, I got it at Queens Chef downtown. It’s so good." Kate said, a bit of cheese still on her whiskers.

Evette took a piece of the Brie and a slice of the fine rye bread. "Mmm…This is so delicious. I haven’t had cheese like this in ages."

"I’m worried because you guys are only on three month contracts, and if you do a sit-in…." some cheese caught in her throat. "Anyway, I’ll fight internally. I’ll plead and push, and see what I can do." Kate Mouse said, slipping past the Xerox machine.

The mid-day sun moved down behind a building and the office suddenly darkened. All the mice felt a stir, a breeze, a growl, or something. The fur stood up on the back of Heather Mouse’s neck.

Frank Mouse, who was known to see ghosts said, "I guess it’s nothing, but I thought I saw a cat."

"Naw. She’s just scared," said Al Brown.

There was a silence. All the mice had seen the fear in Kate Mouse and it touched their own.

"Okay, it’s bottom of the ninth," said Al Brown, punching his fist into his other tiny paw, "What do you do? Retreat? Who cares if we lose a three month job? The game must go on. When they come to move us. We will not budge."

"Yeah, who cares," said Frank Mouse, "except my hungry kids. Whatever. Anyone got any aspirin?"

*******

The week before the sit-in was the hardest. Rainy season was upon the city and the students came in soggy everyday laying themselves out on the desks like dishrags. Evette Mouse was doing a liver cleanse and couldn’t eat anything remotely delicious, and Frank Mouse had been hitting it hard and had fallen off a bar stool and injured his arm. Kate Mouse was not around as much and seemed worried. Heather Mouse talked incessantly, nervously. Even Downtown Al Brown was just a dull ember-- the Leafs had lost the last two games in a row.

The day before the sit in, there was a terrible typhoon that stopped the trains. The treacherous typhoon huffed and puffed and blew so hard that the sign blew off the front of the school and landed in the neighbor’s swimming pool. The rain beat down so hard that the water ran down the steps forming a dirty river. The water poured and rushed up stairs and over garbage cans, and then back down. Yes, down. This water was looking for some eternal low place. When the mice came into work on Tuesday, there was a river of water leading the way. They followed it like a stream through the narrow side entrance that led to their space. The Mouse office was flooded. Water swirled around the metal desk legs and inched up the filing cabinets. There was an inch of water covering the entire floor. The decorated boxes were a mushy pastel mess. Pink and blue water pooled on white linoleum flooring.

"The boxes are having their period, " said Evette, "Be careful."

"It’s a blood bath down there," said Frank Mouse, going up the stairs.

"Maybe we do want to move?" said Heather Mouse. "Maybe we do wanna move?"

For once, everyone agreed with Heather Mouse. There had never been such a consensus. Maybe we do wanna move.

Kate Mouse called up the wolves. "You know those moving boxes you gave us. Can we have some more?"

"What happened to the other boxes?" said Mr. D. "We can’t afford to give out new boxes every ten minutes."

Kate Mouse used her chin to pin the phone on her shoulder and looked at a lonely leaf that had traveled down the stairs and was floating on the water. She listened to the wolf’s huff and puff as it wheezed through the line.

"I gave you enough boxes," said the wolf, "I’m not carrying more boxes all the way down there."

In her mind, Kate Mouse could see the wolf’s scruffy fur, his wild eyes and his sharp teeth. She was surprised to note how much wolves actually looked like a mice. It was then that she decided not to tell them.

"What happened to the other boxes?" growled the wolf.

"We just need more boxes," Kate Mouse said, "I’ll come and get them."

"Whatever," said the wolf. He was already thinking of his third cigarette, which meant twelve more cigarettes and the day would be done, or sixty-three more cigarettes and it would be Friday night. He clicked the phone into its cradle, padded his shirt pocket to make sure his smokes were there, clicked the screen lock on his computer, and wheezed his way to the smoking area. When he got there, he lit a Marlboro, huffed and puffed, and starred off into the pouring rain. He was dreaming of Friday night. He had a little cross-dressing surprise planned for Little Red Riding Hood and all the cats at the fetish club. He let the ash build up until it was long like a claw before he flicked it into the smoldering ashtray. Then he took a long slow drag, massaged his temple with his free paw and huffed and puffed some more.

Katherine Murphy-McGoldrick, is a Canadian writer who lives in Hong Kong with her husband and son. She has short stories, articles and poetry published in The Prairie Journal, Printed Matter Literary Review, Faces in the Crowd Literary Anthology, and some in The Tokyo Advocate and Options (McQuarrie Univ. Press). She completed her MFA in Writing at Goddard College, Vermont, in 2004, and was an editor of The Tokyo Advocate Literary Magazine until recently when her son was born and her family moved to Hong Kong. Currently she’s an at home writing mom.