You Roll The Dice, You Move Your Mice.

And The Rat Squeaked

A rat sat on a marble,

and like a microscopic Hansel sans Gretel

it laid yarn from all the important points back to his marble.
To the pantry,

To the mouse hole, where all his mouse friends live.

To the window, to see outside.
To the crack in the wall, to be outside.
To the leaky pipe for shower & scrub.
And so on and so forth.
Lint covered strands traced labyrinths cross scratched wood floor.
The last bit of yarn he tied around his tiny rat waist.

His finely woven interstate sat taught all around.
Proud of his project but tired of the process he curled around the marble.
Sun sat below the glass panes, putting all the room in darkness
and the rat fell asleep, comfortable in his well laid out fortress.

But when morning came, when all bad news comes,

The strings had torn and floated

around the room, the place was a skew and the rat was disconcerted.

Which is how to nicely put it but frankly the rat was pissed

The rat was scared and the rat was lost and the rat was steamed 

and the rat the frustrated and the rat squeaked a squeaky yell.
The rat felt alone.
But he wasn’t alone.
His marble rolled alongside him and spoke,

and this was startling even to a rat with developed emotions & cognizance.

Marbles, though they have no mouths are very wise in their own way.
They communicate through rolling in patterns understandable to the most perceptive animals.
Walrus,

Walking stick bugs,

Barn Owls,
& some species of bats.
Baby giraffes,

Pigmy marmosets,

and a type of hummingbird (who live strictly in Tibet).

And most pertinently rats,
And so the marble rolled and he most eloquently said
“Rat, I have known you for some time now and I would tell you not to fret but knowing you I also know that it would be a vain attempt.
Because you’re a worrisome mammal but I don’t hold that against.
Let me tell you why the fact that all your yarn is gone is for the best.
The pantry is always empty,

And outside it always rained,

The windows are too smudgy

And those mice aren’t your friends.
That pipe was never leaky in fact it was always quite dry.
All your strings are gone but you haven’t noticed one thing,

and it’s the piece around your tiny rat waist, the last piece of string.
It’s still intact, and holding on to me and I’m made of glass.

Now listen very carefully because this next part is important.”
And the rat listened, even more carefully than before.
“I am an inanimate object, incapable of speech and thought.”
The rat squeaked.
“And more importantly we are both constructs of a sad man, trying to illustrate a forgotten point.”
And on the word "point", the marble exploded
and the rat squeaked.