The Playhouse Dilemma

The screeching sound of hundreds of violins blares from the gigantic speaker above him as he scurries across the rafters, making him feel as if he would be blown away by the loud noise at any moment. Glancing over the edge, a sea of women is spinning and leaping around in the intense light, their dresses fluttering. The bright colors begin to make him dizzy, and imagining himself smacking on the floor so many feet below, he continues on, dashing quickly to the end of the beam.

Peeking over the edge again, he sees he is no closer to his destination. He pauses to think. In just a few seconds, he has a plan. Probably not a very good one, but a plan just the same. Backing as close to the opposite edge as he dare go, he takes a running start and springs into the air, and a moment later his feet hit the roof of a castle. He bounds on, carefully avoiding slipping on the shingles angled toward the floor, where, if he fell he’d surely be done for.

At the rim of the roof, he draws up another plan. Coincidentally, the same plan as before. Eyeing the fence before him, he leaps into the air.

He hits the floor, missing the fence completely. Before he can check for injuries, something slams down beside him, and he’s tossed back into the air. Landing on his back in the center of a mass of spinning colors, he squeaks, hurriedly getting back to his feet. A moment later, another shoe slams on the floor. A purple dress flies over his head as he runs a quickly as he can, narrowly dodging a red heel.

The squeaking instruments stop abruptly, all of the dancers moving to the edge of the stage.

Finally out of the bright lights, he’s at a place he’s familiar with, where he knows the way. He can see it. A hole in the wall. He can smell it, too, the cheese he’d been saving for a day like this.

And the mouse is home.