From her spot at the bar between J.W. and Doolittle, Jolene watched Corky draw three beers from the little tap in his plastic line he had run through the floor above, allowed the foam to settle a bit, and then watched him limp down the length of the bar, his mouse tail tucked carefully out of the way, to drop two off for Skip and Norton, and bring the other one to Doolittle. Corky had to grasp all three handles of the mugs with one of his little white paws, because he still had to use his cane after his accident.

“Leg still bothering you, Corky?” Jolene asked him.

“Oh, yeh,” he answered. “Doc says it probably always will.”

Corky leaned his cane behind the bar.

“What do you expect, though?” he groused. “I mean, only a fool would try to do the bartender thing, slinging bottles over my shoulders and down my arms and everything, when I was using airline size bottles. Looked good, but too big for a mouse. Sooner or later, one had to slip and break my leg.”

Jolene looked at the boards of the floor above their heads, the floor joists that served as the walls, and the occasional nails hanging down that had missed their marks in the joists. Corky had done such a great job decorating the place! The bar was made out of two long wooden blocks from a children’s building block set, one yellow and one red, placed end to end, and the bar stools were wooden sewing spools, just the right size for white mice. Flat, wooden popsicle sticks and dice for spacers made perfect shelves behind the bar. Jolene had even helped brighten things up by winding a short string of white, miniature Christmas lights between some of the nails overhead. She thought it was the least she could do for the friendly confines Corky provided for her and her friends. Skip dipped into his Post Office stuff, and brought in an assortment of colorful, commemorative postage stamps to hang on the walls. The end effect made a warm, cozy mouse hangout.

Also, Jolene’s question about Corky’s leg had been a rhetorical one, since she already knew the answer, but her heart still went out to the guy, and she had to ask anyway to let him know she was thinking about him. Doing the juggling act with the bottles had been Corky’s thing from the first day he opened up Jeers beneath the tavern above. The acrobatics brought in a lot of business before he got hurt. Now, he just had to hope all the mice would come back. At least, he still had his regular crowd.

“I should have been smart enough to use accessories from Barbie and Ken sets from the beginning,” continued Corky. “They’re about the right size, especially the bottles, beer mugs and martini glasses. I just fill the Barbie bottles from the airline bottles and do the juggling with them. It works, just doesn’t have all the drama to draw in the crowds like before.”

“They’ll come back,” she assured him.

“I was pretty good with the airline bottles, though, wasn’t I?” bragged Corky. “I could sling them around like crazy.”

“You sure could!” said Jolene. “You were great, just like Tom Cruise in that movie! Who would have thought a bottle would get away and fall on your leg like that?”

Corky shrugged.

“Live and learn, I guess,” he said.

He looked at J.W. and Doolittle as they sat sullenly, hunched over their mugs.

“What’s with you two?” asked Corky. “Looks like you’ve been sentenced to death by the blues!”

Doolittle sipped the fresh beer and hung his head. J.W. sat with one elbow on the bar, his chin resting on his paw, and his tail in a limp pile behind him on the floor.

“What mouse wouldn’t have the blues?” Doolittle said into the beer. “I mean, there’s no jobs. Even if I wanted to work, I couldn’t!”

“That’s right,” complained J.W. “Did you hear that Johnson & Johnson just laid off two hundred more? Bayer did the same thing the week before. It’s hopeless! Lab mice don’t have a chance, anymore!”

Corky looked at J.W.’s half empty mug.

“You ready for another one, yet?”

“I don’t know,” answered J.W.

“It isn’t rocket science!” exclaimed Corky. “You either do or you don’t!”

Corky didn’t have to be so rough on him, thought Jolene. It was just difficult for J.W. to make a decision. J.W. looked uncertain, his chin still in his paw.

“Oh,all right,” he finally decided. “I guess so.”

Corky limped away to get the refill. Down the bar, Skip looked up with foam covering the white hair around his pink lips, his brew already half gone.

“Why SHOULD any of the pharmaceutical companies hire lab mice, anymore?” he said. “They don’t HAVE to!”

“That’s right,” agreed Norton. “Why do R and D? Their advertising budgets are WAY bigger than their research budgets!”

“Sure!” chipped in Doolittle. “It works! That’s why I can’t kick back in my Lazy Boy without seeing their stupid commercials!”

“And if you pay attention to what the advertising companies are doing,” added Jolene, “they’re not even selling the medication! They’re selling an emotion!”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Skip.

“Look at how the action develops in the commercial,” continued Jolene. “It always starts out kind of gray and dark. The central person is uncertain, or worried, or depressed, kind of left out. The other people seem concerned about them.”

Corky returned with a new beer for Skip, and stopped to listen.

“Sounds like your life story, Skip,” said Corky as he set the full mug on the bar.

“It’s what living under the post office does for you, my friend,” quipped Skip. “You just don’t know the real me! My life is like one big happy pill trip!”

Jolene ignored the chatter.

“Then, the person takes the pill,” she went on, “and all of a sudden the sun comes out! The person is the center of attention! Everyone is a friend, smiling and laughing, patting the person on the back! Life is great! The ad company is selling an emotion and connecting it to the pill. They want you to come away remembering happiness and joy, not the list of side effects.”

“The ad companies are good!” agreed Norton with his usual smile.

“Oh, yes!” exclaimed J.W. “Nobody ever listens to the side effects.”

“They’re like a broken record, playing in the background,” said Jolene. “And the most disgusting drugs, to me, are the ones for depression and mood enhancement.”

“There you go, Skip!” exclaimed Norton. “Mood enhancement!”

“They take medications that were originally intended for really serious mental disorders, like schizophrenia and bipolar conditions, and they encourage doctors to prescribe them as happy pills,” said Jolene. “Listen to some of those commercials!”

“Right!” said J.W. “The two that get me are Abilify and Cymbalta. Those side effects are particularly scary.”

“I know!” agreed Skip, apparently on a serious note. “I think it was one for Cymbalta that I saw last night. The list of side effects went on and on. Suicidal thoughts, anxiety, panic attacks, trouble sleeping, impulsive, irritable, hostile, aggressive! Which is worse, the depression, or the side effects?”

“Exactly!” said Jolene.

“I heard one for Abilify that was about as bad,” added Doolittle. “Some of those side effects were fever, rapid heart rate, uncontrolled muscle movements, severe headaches, problems with vision, speech or balance, more suicidal thoughts. It’s enough to make you depressed just listening to all that!”

“None of them have a clue about the long range effects!” said Jolene with a shake of her head.

“No kidding!” chirped up Corky. “There could be some totally weird stuff stuck in the middle of the list of side effects, and no one would even notice! Like enlarging of the ears or something!”

“Maybe that’s what Dumbo took to make his ears like that!” joked Norton.

“No joke, my friend,” added Skip. “Hold that idea for a minute! If people thought they could take a pill, grow big ears and fly, stores couldn’t keep that stuff on their shelves!”

“Or how about this for a side effect!” said Corky. “Might increase brain capacity.”

“I could use some of that, how about you, Cork?” said Skip.

“I’d mainline it!” quipped Norton.

“Or how about this!” exclaimed J.W. “Prolonged use could cause rapid decision making. I’d buy that!”

“Or, when taken in excess, this product could create enormous energy spurts!” exclaimed Doolittle. “That’s what I need!”

“That’s kind of like that one you take, isn’t it Skip?” asked Norton. “Cialis?”

“Bring it on!” said Skip as he finished his beer.

“You guys can only wish!” said Jolene.

“Might work for women, too!” said J.W.

Corky ended the silence that followed.

“All the stuff we’ve come up with so far has been good stuff!” said Corky. “How about some bad side effects, stuff that nobody wants!”

“You mean the lists of side effects they read on the commercials aren’t bad enough?” exclaimed Doolittle.

“A-a-a-a!” said Corky with a dismissing wave of his hand. “Fever, rapid heart rate, headaches, blurred vision, panic attacks, irritability, trouble sleeping! People have that stuff all the time!”

“Yeh!” agreed Norton. “Somebody hears that, and they say, big deal! Sounds like a normal afternoon to me!”

“Now, you’re on to something!” said Jolene. “A lot of people have those symptoms all the time, probably from meds they already take! They figure, if that’s all it causes, I can handle it! Tell me something I don’t already know!”

“Right!” continued Corky. “We need stuff that NOBODY wants! Like use of this medication might cause one of your legs to drop off at the knee!”

“Hey!” said Skip. “That might be kind of cool! I’ve always thought I might look good with a peg leg! Ar-r-r-r!”

“Okay, okay!” said Corky. “Something really bad, like shrinking of the head!”

“Now, I would think twice before taking that pill!” conceded Skip.

“Or large growths on the nose!” said J.W.

“That is something I wouldn’t want!” said Jolene.

“Or use of this product can cause your teeth to fall out,” said Corky.

“Not bad enough!” said Norton. “Dental implants have come a long way!”

“Okay, smart guy!” said Corky. “How about prolonged use of this medication could cause your body to shrink.”

“All over, or just parts of it?” joked Skip.

“All of it!” pressed Corky. “Prolonged use might make you turn into a dwarf!”

“Oo-o-o-o!” mused Doolittle. “The Little People!”

“Kind of like the pills people took in the Sixties!” said Jolene. “Like Allice In Wonderland!”

All of them stopped talking on that note. Everybody seemed lost in thought.

“I have an uncle who said he used to know Little People,” said Corky.

That was kind of out of the blue, thought Jolene.

“Did he see them in the sixties?” she tested to see if he was still joking.

“No,” said Corky. “I mean I think he actually saw them. He said he did, anyway. He lived in England at the time.”

“What kind of Little People?” continued Jolene.

“Well, did you ever hear of the Borrowers?” asked Corky. “There were some books about them. They were supposed to be like six inches tall. Lived under the floor of an old country mansion.”

“Actually, I HAVE heard of the Borrowers!” exclaimed Jolene. “I loved those books when I was a little girl mouse!”

“Same ones, I think,” said Corky. “Except when my uncle knew them, it was maybe the generation after the ones from the books. People didn’t call them Borrowers, anymore. By then, they called them Swipers.”

“Swipers?” echoed Jolene.

“Yeh, I mean, they pretty much kept all the stuff that they borrowed, anyway,” explained Corky. “Wooden thread spools for furniture, needles for sewing, scraps of cloth for clothing, cotton and match boxes for beds, maybe some dollhouse furniture, whatever they could find to use if you’re six inches tall. Scraps of food.”

“Hm-m-m!” said Jolene. “Swipers. Kind of puts a different spin on the kids books.”

Corky shrugged.

“It is what it is, I guess,” replied Corky.

“How did your Uncle know them,” Jolene asked.

“Well, like I said,” Corky went on. “They were all under the floor of this old house, Little People, mice and all, kind of like neighbors. They all had to live together down there. They were probably kind of in competition with each other, especially for the food scraps. Only so much to go around, I suppose. The Cook and the Housekeeper had suspicions that something weird was going on, and they were always like looking for them.”

“What would you expect?” piped up Skip. “They were swipers!”

“And then there were the rats!” added Corky.

“Yes!” agreed Jolene. “The Borrowers were always fighting with the rats, because they were so big.”

“Big rat bastards, eh?” mused Norton. “I hate rats!”

“Was that the only Little People your Uncle ever saw?” questioned Jolene.

She was fascinated, and she didn’t want to let it go.

“Actually, my Uncle heard rumors that there were more somewhere,” said Skip.

“More of them turned up in the books,” Jolene chipped in. “Long lost Country Cousins, or something.”

“Well, there you go!” exclaimed Norton. “Maybe they’re all over the place, thousands, maybe millions of them! Who knows how many? Maybe they sneak around and swipe stuff all over the world!”

“Not too much different than us, wouldn’t you say?” added J.W., seemingly on a philosophical note. “We’re all over the place sneaking around and swiping stuff, too!”

Corky waved his hand as if to dismiss the accusation.

“Call it what you want,” he said. “I don’t care. Borrowing, taking, swiping, whatever. I just rip stuff off and keep it! No one ever misses it!”

“How about little Sally Ann that owned the Barbie and Ken stuff?” teased Norton.

“Little Sally Ann lost more pieces than she had in the first place!” defended Corky. “Her little brother Danny probably ate them, or maybe they got sucked up by the vacuum cleaner!”

“Maybe there’s some Little People here right now spying on us!” said Skip, raising his hands palms down and shifting his shoulders from side to side. “Oo-o-o-o! Kind of creepy!”

“People upstairs at Jeers have been complaining that things have come up missing,” offered Corky. “Maybe that’s why!”

“Big deal!” interjected Doolittle. “So some meaningless stuff comes up missing! Let the Little People have it! I bet no one ever appreciates them for the good things they do! Like that cook and housekeeper at the mansion in England. Did they ever stop to think about all the rats the Little People drove away? Oh no! They never stop to be thankful for that!”

Jolene looked at Doolittle. She was trying to see where he was going with this new side track.

“The Little People and white mice have a lot in common!” continued Doolittle. “We’re both unappreciated! I mean, white mice make a big contribution! Look at all the stuff that gets tested on us! But do we ever get credit for that?”

Jolene seldom saw Doolittle hot about anything, but he was hot about this.

“Like the monkeys and the space program!” exclaimed Doolittle. “Where would NASA be without all the help from the monkeys? Human beans would never have reached the moon without them!”

Jolene stared at Doolittle with a slight smile on her lips.

“That’s human BEINGS, Doo!” she said gently.

Doolittle stared back at her with a look of astonishment.

“You’re kidding!” he cried.

Jolene shook her head, still smiling at him.

“And all this time, I thought they were beans!” he said. “Oh well! Whatever! Anyway, I’d rather hang out with a monkey any day, than a human BEING! Monkeys are funnier, and a lot smarter!”

“Here here!” spoke up Skip. “I’ll drink to that!”

“A noble sentiment, my friend!” said Norton, clinking Skip’s mug with his own, like a high five. “But one without much weight, since you’ll drink to most anything.”

Corky brought both mice refills without even being asked. Jolene, however, wanted to steer the conversation back to the Little People.

“I’d like to visit your Uncle and see if we could find these Borrowers, or Swipers, or whatever they’re called now!” said Jolene, still taken by the idea. “We should all go over to England and see if we could find them. Anybody interested?”

All the mice were quiet for a change, apparently thinking about Jolene’s question.

“I’m out,” said Corky. “I couldn’t just close up the bar and leave. There’s no one that would run it for me while I was gone.”

“I don’t know,” said J.W., probably unable to decide. “I’d have to think about it.”

“I’d go!” offered Skip. “Nobody upstairs at the Post Office would ever miss me!”

“Scratch me off the list,” said Norton. “I’ve got too much stuff going on right now. Besides, i’m not interested in Little People, anyway.”

“I’ll go!” exclaimed Doolittle. “Sounds like fun to me, going to England and all! There’s nothing here to stick around for! It’s not like a bunch of lab mice jobs are going to open up!”

“Okay!” said Jolene. “The three of us can go, then! Nothing like a good adventure to spice up our lives!”

She looked at Skip and Doolittle.

“You guys want to drop by my place later to make some plans?” she said excitedly.

“You betcha!” replied Skip. “I can make it by eight.”

“I’ll be there!” answered Doolittle.

 

That night, the three met at Jolene’s place, which was in the basement of an old shoe store. The apartment consisted of several shoe boxes pushed together with mouse holes to get from one to the other, so there was plenty of space. The mice met in the big living room, that was actually a boot box. Jolene could do wonders with decorating. In her living room, she had comfy chenille trimmed with ricrac covering the match box furniture.

“We can leave in a couple of days,” said Jolene. “That will give us plenty of time to get our things together and find a freight train south to the coast.”

“A couple of days!” exclaimed Doolittle. “I’m ready now! I came all packed and ready to go! Can’t you two throw your stuff together by tomorrow morning?”

Jolene had to smile. She had not seen this much enthusiasm from Doo since she gave him a lazy boy for his birthday. She glanced at Skip.

“I guess I could be ready tomorrow,” she said. “What about you, Skip?”

“Sure,” he answered. “I think you’re right, Doo. No sense in putting it off.”

Jolene felt the immediacy of the adventure drawing the three together, and they were like school kids caught up in the heat of conspiracy.

“I can hardly wait!” cried Doolittle. “We can hop a box car down to New Orleans and get on a ship going almost anywhere from there!”

Skip looked back at them with a spark in his eye, nodding in apparent anticipation.

“What fun!” said Jolene with a laugh. “Just think! Little People!”

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED