Talking Dinner

“Tails?” asked the dark-haired one smiling so wide with tool and jaws and nail.

“Thought you were more of a leg-man, friend.”

His partner-in-crime  tossed her fluffy head ’til pointy ears poked out.

“Don’t I get any say?” asked the mouse.

“I’ll hold him by the tail. You snatch the leg.”

“Can I eat what I catch?”

“You can take the leg I guess, but share the rest.”

“Okay. Let’s play.”

“I don’t…” The mouse tried to run away from jaws and claws and felt his paw just almost, nearly caught. Then “Ouch,” he cried. “That hurt my tail!” And somehow legs that whirled and twirled found motion all curtailed.

“I wanna hold the tail,” said the prettier one.

“Okay but hold him tight. I’ll grab the head.”

“Yum, brains.”

“Mmm, brains.”

“My brains!” The scared mouse wailed.

Their dinner cowered, paws over eyes, while cats clawed his behind.

“Ouch! Ouch!” He cried.

“You grab one paw. I’ll grab the other now.”

“Split him in two. Tear him apart.”

Alas their feline search for food was thwarted by the mouse’s stalwart heart. Two cats reached for the same small paw while mouse sneaked underneath their grasp and out, out, out, out, out, “Out of the house!”

Mom plucked a tin down from the shelf.

“Not the same when you’ve not fought for it yourself,” said one with a miserable sigh.

“Less effort though,” said her dark-haired partner-in-crime.