Rubio The Mouse - The Rat started talking, claiming to be a little mouse Millions of Rats buried in their holes Not wanting but needing everything free

Grandfather said, a double barreled shotgun would do the trick!

Mother turned to him and said, that it wouldn't be fit!

We all knew for sure that we had mice in the attic, some memory of noise was all we heard, you could almost hear them moving as the real mice were heard, this little creatures throughout the land, from Mexico across the river roamed our land,

They had gotten into the spices and nuts, like tiny little explorers they had found the something of food in the room claiming nothing to be found, you found them everywhere but not in our house, you could see them in the parks, around the schools, on the corners of every street but our attic was Mothers, her secret place, 

The attic was full of nothing, all piled up high, old yellow files and brown leather shoes mixed with fathers papers and mothers only keyboard book, this place at the highest level echoed with tip tapping of little mice, more than one you could be sure, never alone and never seen they came by the millions inside boats and cars,

She had written a story and typed it out by hand and like some engine idling, vibrating in her head her story went empty and she had decided to go to bed, she sat quietly thinking about her words when a deep scratch shook her place, over there in some pile not so far away, maybe grandfathers clockwork made the noise, maybe the last tick of the tock clocking,

Listening for more sounds while thinking what to do, she decided to run through the mess she had left on the floor, wanting more light and a lot more space, the giant attic seemed so small now, invaded by others right past the locks, they had to plenty and there was going to be more, 

You see the attic was mothers secret space, she would push away the old pots and pans and the good box would make her desk and the bulb would glow, and without any sounds of my father her words would start to flow and all that time he would be playing card and games with other unfortunate men, twisting himself with politics and other games of chance, he had been hiding the creatures in his sanctuary place,

This would not be the time to close my eyes as the drama of the moment sounded like thunder as my Mothers shaking hand held my own here and there, while her familiar voice told her story, performing hands helped her speak as we sat around taken aback, the fear showing in her tears, my Father silenced by her noise, 

She had been writing with some typing when the explorers came, the slightest sound at first neared her space and with frustration she had listened closely, and she noticed a movement, not too much, but the old tuxedo had never moved before,

Yes, she knew, they were mice in the attic, and what to do, she rushed to a stop deciding where to go, 

These little creatures disappeared once in site, their unruly habits taking over the town, their hateful little brothers by the millions they came, finally with equal spirit she jumped to her feet all of a sudden exhausted by thirst,

The first thing was to run, faster than most, to get downstairs where it would be safe and sound, no matter what she did, it had to be faster than most, even the mouse,

She almost fell, the clamor real loud, and that's when my father made it to the noise,

With his powers of listening making him squirm, he had heard my mother screaming like some great horn, a watchmakers ear was finely tuned, even one little clicking sounding a tune,

Like some great gift to her he made his way up as she turned to see him on the next step down, she went right past him without another sound,

Mother! Stop your running, it's only a mouse,

It's his place in the attic, it's my only mouse, Father said but Mother was in no mood to listen let alone slow down,

With her darkening face looking his way she gave him a gaze, she made her words clear to who she loved most, unceasingly she was chattering and he has reason to know that never the less it had to go,

Give me the butcher block!  Get me the knife!  I'm tired of you hiding every little mouse,

Amid all this commotion, bit by bit, little by little, the beating heart surging the mouse heard the old man tell her his story,

Mother, it's the attic if memory serves me and he needs a place to live, by way of the attic we can do our part, living outside is much too hard, meaningless and silent people pass them by, it's only a mouse,

I'm told his name is Rubio, as he touched her trembling hand,

They have been looking for him Mother, all across the land, in every basement and even under the stairs while he tries to travel inside our great land,

He has no papers Mother so they look for him today and once he was a stranger but now he's my friend and now I hope he survives because Rubio is from Cuba an island far away, this is who you meet today,

Mother felt she was on a carousel because they had spoke of the illegal mice all over the land, many times before,

Their numbers slowly climbing so it wasn't a big deal,

The government called them galloper's and they would do no harm,

Father had lowered himself heavily to the floor and with his certain softness he called the name "Rubio",

Father was transformed and leaned forward to look across the floor and putting one finger on his lips he motioned us to silence,

At first a tiny piece of broken pottery that mother had knocked to the floor gradually moved that made my skin tingle,

I could barely compose a single word as this Rubio mouse shuffled over to my fathers outstretched hand,

My Mother the storyteller could think of a word to say, but like a sandstorm you could see it coming from far away,

Abe, my Fathers first name, produced a fistful of seeds as the little tramp galloper started to eat our food, like some beggar's blessing Father gave him more,

Like some kind of Zoo our land had millions of these creatures cradled up by the hand of the government and they all lived for free,

Making a mess of his upper lip Rubio filled his mouth as we all stayed silent for a while like during church on the front pew,

Millions and millions of mice are asleep in the holes and they had upturned the whole world as they clattered across the border,

My Mother's wrinkled face was not smiling as my father watched her hoping for a sign of forgiveness,

I closed my eyes and offered a prayer,

My head was bowed but my eyelids pulsed as I knew my Mother was miserable, even though she could not say,

My Mother's silence was powerful but it wasn't enough,

Rubio the Mouse, started talking.

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