Mouse on a Motorcycle
Page 1
Mouse on a Motorcyle
by
Wilde Blue Sky
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PUBLISHED BY:
Mouse on a Motorcyle
Copyright © 2012 by Wilde Blue Sky
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
The author would like to thank Louise for her support.
Note to reader - if you appreciated this short story please, if you are able, make a small donation to a charity of your choice.
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Mouse on a Motorcycle
Squeak walked along the theatre’s hanging rail to where Louise sat engrossed in the movie. ‘Hi.’
Louise waved a paw at him.
Squeak looked at the screen, a leather glad woman with long blonde wavy hair was thundering through gorgeous countryside scenes on a big black motorcycle. Squeak asked, ‘The motorcycle movie?’
Louise frowned.
Squeak knew she wouldn’t talk to him until the film was over. He sat and watched the woman continue to hurtle through the open landscape. As the final titles rolled Louise mumbled, ‘I want an adventure.’
Squeak looked across at Louise. ‘Most of what you see in the films is just fantasy. We have a good life here, a decent place to sleep and plenty to eat.’
‘I want to ride with the wind in my hair. I want to see the world.’
Squeak raised an eyebrow. ‘Get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.’
‘It’s something I need to do. A good night’s sleep won’t change that.’
‘I’m off to the den. Are you coming?’
‘I’m going to have a look around after the people have gone.’
Squeak shrugged and wandered off along the rail.
Louise waited a few minutes and then made her way down the cable to the theatre’s floor. She saw the usual debris then she spotted a white round ball. She made her way across to it. She read the printing on it, ‘Ping Pong.’ She prodded it and it rolled away. ‘Must be hollow’ She smiled, quickly looked around and then picked it up.
Back at the den she spent an hour, chewing the ball and then painting it with some red nail varnish. She stood back and looked at her handy work then she placed it on her head, looked in the mirror and smiled. ‘Now I have my own crash helmet.’ She sighed, ‘I wondered if I’d meet Robbie if I went on a road trip.’
There was a knock on the door. Squeak asked, ‘We’ve got some cheese if you want some.’
‘Be there in a minute.’ Louise took off the helmet and shoved it under her mattress with the motorcycle pictures she’d chewed out of magazines. Then she opened the door and heard Rolo utter the words, ‘She’s obsessed with that film. I’m sure I saw her pretend to ride a motorcycle when she was watching it. I think she’s going through some sort of mid-life crisis.’
Squeak shrugged. ‘She just wants a change. She just wants to do something different.’
Louise felt her temperature rise, she stormed up to Rolo. ‘I’m not going through a mid-life crisis.’ Rolo shrank back.
Squeak held out a lump of cheese. ‘He didn’t mean anything by it. Here have some cheese.’
Louise pushed Squeak’s paw away. ‘And I do want things to be different. I want to get out of here and see the world. I want the freedom to just take-off in any direction that grabs me. I want to feel the wind in my face. There’s nothing wrong with that.’ And with that she turned and stomped back to her room.
She waited until the noise from the living room had died down and then got her helmet and went up to the roof. She looked at the early evening skyline and sighed. Then the air was filled with the throaty pounding roar and off-centred drumming beat of a motorcycle. She looked down into the street and saw a big muscular biker, covered in tattoos, with long flowing hair and a beard get off a beautiful motorcycle. She looked at her helmet. ‘It’s now or never.’ She put the helmet on and started to crawl down the outside of the theatre. Then she darted across the pavement, dodging people’s feet and then scampered across the road weaving between car wheels.
She finally got to the motorcycle and climbed up on to the leather seat. She sat down and looked around at the gleaming metal and beautiful shape of the motorcycle. The engine sparkled and the bright red body work was immaculate. The whole bike smelt of leather and metal. As she sat pretending to ride the motorbike, the leather felt soft and warm under her paws. She smiled broadly. She glanced at one of the wing mirrors and saw the biker returning. She looked around and leapt onto the motorcycle pannier and squeezed through a gap in the cover.
The biker flipped up the motorcycle stand, started the bike and then gunned the engine. The air was filled with a thundering roar. Initially the noise terrified Louise then she poked her head out of the pannier and beamed a smile.
The motorcycle headed out of the city. Louise looked at the city whiz by and shook with pleasure. Over the roar of the engine she couldn’t hear Squeak shouting from the top of the theatre, ‘Don’t go!’
The motorcycle roared off into the distance and Louise was entranced by the new buildings, cars and people. Everything rushed by so fast she could barely take it in. She felt the warm sun on her arms, a balmy wind buffeting her face, smelt the later summer aroma and had a slight burning sensation in her nostrils from the fumes. The scenery, the patchwork of shops and offices, with the odd house nestled here and there bewitched her.
The motorcycle stopped at some traffic lights and some children in a car pointed at Louise. She waved at them. They waved back. Louise thought to herself, ‘This is the way life is supposed to be.’
Then the motorcycle took off again. It went over a hump in the road and landed with a heavy thud, Louise was shaken and her helmet flew off. She turned and saw it bounce down the road and disappear under a car. She looked forward and was splattered by a fly, she wiped her face. Then the motorcycle ran through a puddle and Louise was drenched in oily water. She spent the next few minutes spitting and coughing.
The motorcycle pulled up to a house and went into the garage. The biker heaved the bike onto its stand and turned off the engine. He disappeared into the house and Louise struggled out of the pannier. She leapt onto the exhaust pipe and immediately felt her paws burn. She leapt again and landed on the hard concrete floor, which was covered with oil and bits of metal. ‘I need to get clean.’ She saw a rag and ran across it then sighed, ‘No good it’s covered in oil.’ Then she saw a fan. She bounced over to it and pressed the on button. Immediately she felt a rush of air and started to dry herself. She looked around, there was the beautiful motorcycle and a gleaming pick-up truck, but the rest of the garage was dirty, full of a mixture of old tools and benches.
The lights came on. The biker stood in the doorway, cigar hanging from the edge of his mouth, whisky bottle in his hand. He stared at Louise. Louise stared at him.
Then there was a deafening scream, ‘A mouse!’
The biker dropped the whisky bottle and the cigar fell from his mouth. He turned and bolted through the door.
Louise called after him, ‘If you let me get cleaned up I won’t look so bad.’
There was a series of banging noises. Louise looked around. ‘I wonder if he’ll give me a lift home?’
The biker reappeared, shotgun in hand. He started to load the gun.
Louis
e’s ears sag. ‘This doesn’t look good.’ She looked around and saw an old tool box, she ran across to it, carefully avoiding the oil puddles and pieces of metal strewn across the floor.
She huddled behind the toolbox. Suddenly there was a thunderous noise and pieces of the toolbox and Louise were blown across the garage. Louise ended up near the tyre of a pick-up truck and crawled behind it.
A deafening bang rang out and pieces of tyre were thrown in all directions. Louise limped to the tyre on the other side of the truck. The heavy slow footsteps of the biker’s boots filled the garage.
Another almighty blast occurred and the tyre Louise was hiding behind was obliterated. Louise scrambled behind a work chest. Multiple shots rang out as the chest was blown to pieces. Louise scurried towards the garage door then a biker’s boot landed directly in front of her. Exhausted and battered she didn’t know what to do. She looked up and saw a shotgun barrel aimed directly at her. She covered her eyes with her paws, her body shook uncontrollably.
The biker sneered, ‘You’re going to pay for