Trap

This micro fiction piece was written as a story companion to the day 18 drawing prompt Trap from the 2020 Inktober prompt list. Click here to see the drawing.

As the oldest rat in this colony, I must have seen every kinda mouse trap ever made. The old woman who owns this house is obsessed with getting rid of us and in my time, I’ve watched her try everything under the sun to do it.

We’ve faced snap traps, mouse hotels, not to mention all the chemical warfare. Once, she filled the house with these cans that puffed white smoke throughout every room. We watched from outside the window and couldn’t help but laugh, wondering, does she really not know we spend half our time outside? She doesn’t keep enough food in the house to feed us anyway, and the trash cans are in the backyard. That’s where all the good stuff is, anyway.

Obviously, she doesn’t know squat about rats. This week, there are big, sticky squares of glue in every corner of the house, so I called a colony meeting to discuss the best way to handle them.

The crawl space under the floorboards is the clubhouse where we hold all big meetings, but I like to think of it as the War Room. Once everyone gathers together and I call us to order.

“We’re here to discuss the new traps that the Old Woman has laid out.”

“They’re glue!” A voice rings out.

“They smell like cheese, I almost licked one before I realized it!!” Shouts another.

They’re already out of order. One of the grumpier old rats limps forward on his matchstick cane and waves it menacingly toward my podium, shouting, “I got my whisker stuck to one and thought I was a goner!”

“Calm down, Woodrow, we all know how precious you are about your fancy whiskers.”

Everyone laughs, which is good. I want to keep this light. It’s not the first time we’ve faced and defeated a scheme from the Old Woman, and, if I have my way, it won’t be the last. No reason to act like it’s the end of the world

“You’re just jealous I won Best Whiskers at the fair last month,” Woodrow jokes back.

“Yeah, at a contest you held where you were the sole contestant and judge.”

Woodrow crosses his paws. “Still won, though.”

I roll my eyes to more laughter, but we need to get down to business. I tap my gavel on the upturned Altoids box I use for a podium.

“Listen up, folks. Glue traps are some of the easiest traps to avoid, you just gotta keep your eyes open and your wits about you. If you don’t feel confident that you can keep your paws out of the glue, stay out of the main rooms until she gets rid of them. Stick to the yard and the cans for food and if you’re having trouble finding something to eat, get with the Feeding Team and they’ll subsidize your meals until the threat has passed.”

A low murmur of assent moves through the crowd of rats and I’m pleasantly surprised at how easy this is turning out to deal with. It’s certainly nothing compared to the Great Snap Trap Debacle from my grandfather’s time.

I remember when I was a kid, he told me all about how they had to send special expeditions out to the neighboring homes to get high quality cheese for the whole colony because everyone was so tempted by the bait. They lost five good rats that year. Thankfully, we’ve never lost one during my tenure, and I don’t intend to start now.

“Any questions?”

After a few seconds, no one’s said anything and I’m about to adjourn the meeting when I see the smallest paw in the colony sticking out over the crowd.

“Yes, Popcorn?”

From where she’s sitting, I can only hear high-pitched squeaking.

“Why don’t you come forward, sweetheart?”

The crowd is silent as we listen to the little paws quickly padding through the crowd until she appears at the front and stops in front of my podium.

“What’s your question?”

“It’s not a question,” She’s holding a thimble with a piece of string tied over the top in a bow. “It’s a present?”

“What?”

“The Foraging Class made it for you!” The rest of the preschool mice squeak up where they’re standing next to their parents in the crowd.

“For me?”

“The teacher told us how no one has gotten hurt or died since you’ve been in charge, and we all wanted to say thank you for keeping us safe.”

She scurries forward and hands me the thimble. When I untie the string, I see a piece of white cloth folded up and shoved inside. Definitely a gift made by the preschool rats. Unfolding the cloth reveals a banned, covered in blue ink paw prints from all the kids and a big, ‘Thank U’ scrawled in the middle.

I hold the banner up and the colony erupts in applause, while tiny Popcorn stares up at me with a beaming smile. I may just be the head of a rat colony, but today, these little ones made me feel like a king.