Of Mice and Joes

With the current mice problem in my home, my mind wandered to what might happen if there were mice in the Pit. After all, there are animal predators in residence…..

The trouble started with a delivery for the Pit Kitchens. Cookie noticed one of the big fifty-pound bags of cornmeal was leaking. There was a tear in the seam about half-way down the side, and he figured it had gotten snagged on something in transit. So, he ordered two of his kitchen helpers to transfer what was left in the bag, which seemed to be most of it, into a large bin.

Everything was fine…until they actually opened the top of the bag. Private Cutter leapt straight into the air, did a summersault worthy of a gold-medal gymnast (or a Ninja), and landed in a crouch on a table three feet away. Private Benjamin ran for the nearest door, shrieking at the top of his lungs. The bag fell over, spilling cornmeal all over the floor…and disgorging about two dozen small, furry brown bodies that scattered in all directions.

"Mice!" Cookie roared, grabbing a broom. "Mice in my kitchen!"

Spirit, with the eagle Freedom on his shoulder, and Snake Eyes, with the wolf Timber at his side, were just heading for the mess hall when they heard the commotion start, and Private Benjamin came bursting out of the kitchen into the hallway, still screaming. Only now, he was also shaking one leg violently, trying to dislodge the tiny hitch-hiker clinging desperately to his pant leg. Freedom shrieked, and pounced, deftly removing the unwanted passenger. The eagle continued down the hall a short distance, where he landed and ate his catch. Another small form slipped out from under the kitchen door. This time, it was Timber who pounced.

Private Benjamin promptly fainted, falling against Snake Eyes.

The sounds coming from the kitchen…breaking glass, pans hitting the floor, screams, pounding feet, and Cookie's loud cursing… had nothing to do with cooking. Spirit looked at Snake Eyes.

"Guess you'd better get him to medical," the tracker commented. "I'll see what's going on …"

"What's all the racket?" Flint demanded, coming down the hallway with Lady Jaye, Dusty, and the coyote Sandstorm. "What happened to that Green Shirt?" Snake Eyes was already carrying Benjamin away.

"He fainted," Spirit replied.

"Why did he faint?"

Before Spirit could answer that, the door of the kitchen opened again, as more Green Shirts scurried out…to escape the invasion or to stay out of Cookie's broom, Spirit wasn't sure. A few more of the invaders followed. Sandstorm yipped, and went in for the kill. Freedom, seeing more snacks, nearly knocked Flint into a wall going for his share.

"Damn it!" Flint moved back slightly. "What the hell is wrong with those three?"

"They're hunting," Spirit said calmly.

"We're in an underground bunker! What the devil are they hunting in here?"

"Mice!" Lady Jaye moved well away from the door.

"Mice? How in the hell did mice get in?"

"They are mice, Flint. They get in anywhere," Spirit shrugged. He and Flint entered the kitchen to total chaos. Cookie was attempting to swat the mice with his broom. One Green Shirt was on a counter, throwing whatever came to hand. Another was trying to load his pistol…until Flint yanked it out of his hands. Freedom swooped through the door, grabbed another mouse, and perched on a table to eat it. Timber and Sandstorm were chasing mice, sliding on the smooth floor; sometimes colliding with each other. Somehow, Polly had gotten in…probably through the serving door to the mess hall when someone fled that way. The parrot was now sitting on a high shelf, alternately laughing at the canines or encouraging their attempts.

"Get'em, Timber! Awk!" Polly squawked. When Timber slid again, this time hitting his nose against a cabinet, Polly laughed. "Bet that hurt!"

The door to the mess hall swung open, and an annoyed-looking Hawk stalked into the kitchen.

"What in the sam-hell is going on in here?" His voice cut through all the noise. Everyone froze, including both birds, and both canines. Freedom still had a tail hanging out of his beak. "Do I even want to know what Freedom has in his beak, Spirit?"

"A mouse," Spirit replied, belatedly adding "Sir."

"A mouse. Since when do we have mouse problem?"

"The little buggers came in with the cornmeal, General," Cookie informed him. He swung at another one, which set it skittering in Hawk's direction. Hawk managed to move just fast enough to avoid getting knocked over by Sandstorm and Timber as they raced after the rodent.

"Atten-hut!" Hawk ordered, bring both canines to sliding halts, and froze Cookie in mid-swing. "Get the birds, the wolf, and the coyote out of the kitchen, clean up this mess, and set traps. This is not a hunting preserve for endangered and protected species, nor is it a batting cage. And you still have hungry people waiting for their lunch. Flint, see to it."

"Yes sir," Flint sighed slightly. Hawk glared briefly at each of them in turn, then turned and walked back out of the kitchen.

"Weirdest damn unit ever, I swear."