The Adventures of Alex the Mouse

This is a fun little story I started some time back. It is the idea that I used for my AI homework in the previous post.
We’ve all heard stories of the little mouse who just doesn’t fit in. In recent years, there has been a brave mouse who helped save a princess and a little cook who helped save a cooking empire. Ok, so that cook was a rat not a mouse. This is a similar story.
Our little mouse lived with his family, his mother, father, and three siblings, in a beautiful historic house museum. This little mouse’s name was Alex. All his life Alex’s mother and father told him and his siblings how lucky they were to live in such a beautiful, old house. Alex’s school lessons took place through-out the house, where he and his many mouse classmates learned about all the Federal furniture, early Victorian decoration and mid-nineteenth century textiles. Alex’s classmates’ favorite day of the week was when they learned about 19th century food and cooking. Alex, on the other hand just couldn’t figure out how the little old lady who made the food never figured out bits and pieces went missing.
That wasn’t the only thought Alex had that was different from his classmates, or his family for that matter. Actually, Alex had very little interest in most everything around him. While his sister loved to watch the human school groups come visit and try to answer all the kids’ questions before the tour guide, Alex simply was not amused. While Alex’s brothers like to race each other from the second floor grandmother’s clock to the first floor grandfather’s clock in the parlor in the time from the first chime to the last chime, Alex simply was not amused. While Alex’s best friend George, enjoyed collecting all the bits and pieces of thread and fabric from the women sewing to make his own quilt, Alex simply was not amused.
But, there was one weekend a year that Alex loved. When the weather turned warm and the days a bit longer, the house museum would host a living history event. Hundreds of people from all around the area would come set-up camp and dress in historic clothing while visitors would wander through the house’s yard. Alex was very excited to see all these people. It turns out that while Alex was not interested in the 19th century, he loved vintage goodies; they were so much newer then everything he grew up with. His room was filled with vintage items he collected each year on this weekend. Each year, as people arrived on Friday, Alex would watch paying close attention and coming up with his scouting plan for that evening. Then as evening came, he would prowl the area collecting.
This particular year, Alex was quite excited as he watched people arrive. He had already spotted a group of women over by the willow tree that kept bringing plastic totes out of their car. That will be where he will start. Then, if everything isn’t too heavy, he’ll work his way back to the house.
As the sun began to set, Alex ventured out.
Alex learned the best place to travel was along the edges of the tents as these were fairly safe and protected areas. He especially liked the tents that had straw packed along the sides, as if needed he could hide or stash his finds there. As he scurried, Alex realized he was actually stepping in time with the music being played a several tents over. He even surprised himself with that one. Then he stopped quick. A sound. A very different sound. It was coming from the next tent. He ran ahead and ducked under the canvas. There was a man, half dressed in the gray wool so many of the other men were wearing, sitting on the ground hunched over. Bleep, bleep, bling, bleep. It was one of those little noise making toys the school kids brought with them and the teachers took away. Alex tried to climb up the tent pole to get a better view. He found these games interesting. But, he knew better then to take one as he already found they stop working after a few days. He also knew he couldn’t be distracted to long. He had to move on.
Back outside, Alex headed right for the willow tree. As he got closer, he knew he was in the right spot. A table cloth had slid off of a blue plastic ice box outside the tent. He slid under the edge of the tent. Once inside, he assessed his surroundings.
At the top of the little folding stool, one of the ones Alex saw women fall over on many times, Alex became very excited. Left in a pile was one of those bags the women wore on their heads holding their hair. This was just perfect. Alex was hoping he would find something like this because his bed was getting old and he really wanted a hammock to sleep in. Green would be perfect. He rolled it up as best he could and slung it over his shoulder. As he did, he saw something shiny on the bed below. He worked he way down to the bed and over to the shiny object. Once again, Alex was happy. It was a pony-tail lady. Alex loved these pony-tail ladies. He had a whole collection of them.
This is where I stopped writing 13ish years ago.