Why Can’t we be Friends

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Why Can’t We Be Friends?.”

Dear Thomas,

For years now I have cradled a desire for us to become true friends but for this to work you must answer this; why is it that every time I leave my little home between the walls, you try to kill me?

You can’t be hungry, there’s always tables full of food in the dining room, cupboards full of goodies and every time I open the fridge there’s a whole ham just sitting there. Surely any of those would satisfy your appetite to a greater degree than a small, insignificant mouse.

Or are you trying to prove something to your owner? Lets be honest now, if she kept you around for your expertise in pest control she would have called in a professional by now, its been over seventy years and you still haven’t got rid of me.

Anyway, I feel that we should move on from the same old cat chases mouse slapstick schtick we’ve been peddling for so so long now and I have a proposition for you. Cabaret. We work the clubs in town, then across the state until we hit Broadway. We both know you rock on the piano, remember this

I think this is a great idea so please consider it, it can’t be any worse than you getting hurt so very much all the time.

Kindest Regards and Best Wishes,




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