Writer's Workshop

This assignment was "What would you say to a mouse who could talk?"

Mama Dawg: WTF? I can not believe a damn mouse has gotten in my drawers again! This is like the 20th damn mouse.

Mouse: Excuse me. Please don’t cuss. My ears are sensitive to negativity and your cussing just makes it worse.

MD: ?

M: Don’t look at me with that stupid expression on your face. You’ve suspected for years that animals could talk. Or at least understand.

MD: ?

M: Yeah, hello * waves tiny paw in face * you there. I’m talking to you.

MD: You spoke.

M: Um, yeah. I think I just went over that. What are you, stupid?

MD: And you insulted me!

M: There we go. There’s the famous Mama Dawg all us mice have grown to know and love.

MD: I’m famous?

M: For sure. All members of the animal community conversate.

MD: Conversate isn’t a real word.

M: You have a talking mouse in front of you and all you can think to do is correct my grammar?

MD: Sorry, habit. I have an 8 year old, you know.

M: Yes, I do know. She’s cute.

MD: Thanks!

M: So….. * twiddles fingers *….how ya doin’?

MD: Good, and you?

M: Doing real well, actu….

MD: Wait a minute. I’m pissed at you.

M: Come again?

MD: You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. I’ve had to throw out about 6 sweaters and a couple of shirts from where you’ve either shit so much on them that the stains are forever set or you’ve chewed massive holes in inappropriate places.

M: Language, dear, language.

MD: Um, in case you haven’t noticed, this is MY house. And I’ve already killed like bazillions of you already in those death traps.

M: Also, please don’t exaggerate, it’s not becoming.

MD: Uh, whatever. Seriously, what’s up with all the chewing?

M: It’s simple my dear. We like your laundry detergent. It’s got a lovely aftertaste. Especially when combined with a cotton blend.

MD: Really? That’s why you guys do it.

M: No. We’re mice, stupid. It’s what we do.

MD: Oh, yeah? Um…I got nothing.

M: Yeah, that’s what I thought bee-yotch. Now, go get me some cheese.

MD: * walks away grumbling * F*&%ing mouse.

M: I heard that!

MD: * comes back with some cheese on a wooden rectangular “plate *

MD: Here you go, some fresh Gouda on a platter.

M: That’s better. Utensils?

MD: Seriously?

M: But of course. We ARE civilized mice.

MD: Well, I don’t have any tiny enough to fit in your paws.

M: Fine, I’ll just walk on up to the cheese and eat it with my paws.

MD: Knock yourself out.

M: * starts yanking on cheese with tiny paws *

M: What’s up with this cheese. I can’t pull it o……SNAP

MD: Who’s the stupid bee-yotch now?

Later,

Mama Dawg

P.S. This little writing exercise was brought to you by Mama Kat. For more stories and posts, click here.