Rusty Mice

A rusty old gate sits upon its rusty old hinges at the end of the walkway

            Three blind mice are walking down a walkway near an old, abandoned house. They aren’t sure if it’s abandoned or not, but they do know that there are definitely no birds in it, which works out well in their favor. Somehow, all three of them manage to walk into a gate at the same time. Ross, who used to hang around the wrong sort of toads, was curious what he just ran into, and began licking it to see what, if anything, would happen.

            “This tastes a lot like rusted metal. Maybe it’s a gate!” Ross said to the other two mousey friends, Jorge and Sally. They weren’t as enthusiastic about licking things as Ross was, but they did learn a few things from his habit from time to time. This was one of them.

            “Don’t tell me you actually licked what we bumped into?” Sally asked, and heard Ross nod that he had, in fact, licked it. “I swear, you’re going to get some sort of disease some day, and your tongue is going to fall off! What are you going to do then? You can’t go around gumming everything, that’s just wrong.”

            Jorge tended to stay out of the conversation when Sally and Ross started discussing whether or not to lick things, which happened pretty frequently. It didn’t help all that much that he didn’t speak English, either. He had been an ancient kung fu master in a previous life, and while that didn’t translate all that well into being a mouse, he did enjoy hearing the other two mice talking to each other. They had picked him up after watching him fend off a trap door spider that he couldn’t even see when it was out of its trap door (he’s blind, remember?). They liked the protection Jorge offered, and he enjoyed the sounds of their voices, so it worked out pretty well for everyone. He had also somehow found a neon green bandana and wrapped it around his head, covering his eyes. He couldn’t tie anything else they had found, so Ross and Sally wondered if maybe someone else had done that part for him. Since Jorge didn’t speak English, though, they would never know the truth for sure.

            While you were reading about Jorge, Ross had begun climbing the gate, licking and inspecting more of it. “Ah, just as I had thought!” Ross called down to his comrades, “It’s an old rusty gate with rusty old hinges!”
            “Why is everything so rusty?!” Sally yelled in his general direction. “That seems a bit redundant, doesn’t it? If the gate is rusty, wouldn’t the hinges be rusty, too? Surely they would all oxidize at the same rate? How can you taste age, anyway? Old iron and new iron should taste the same, minus the rust.”

            “Who are you to question oxidation rates of gates and accompanying hinges? We’re fucking mice, what do we know about oxida- on that note, what the fuck is that word? Also, you wouldn’t know how old iron OR new iron tastes, since you don’t lick anything in the world that isn’t edible. Here I am, trying to find out some useful information, and you question me. Why? I’ve licked a great many things in my life, and I know what’s what. Why, I remember the time-“

            And then poodle he had called a gate ate all of them.