“So, tell me about the time you saved the world.”
Says the Rat King as he leans back in the twirly chair,
taunting me with cheese on a string.
It’s supposed to be tempting,
but something smells funny.
The cheese?
The Rat?
And maybe my mind protects me
by going blank
Though everyone says I need this.
But I never liked
the desperate drive
the need to prove
to justify
And quite frankly when I’m saving the world
I don’t stop
to take notes.
You do what you gotta do
When you gotta do it
and move on.
Should I tell him about the time
I followed cheese crumbs
through the maze?
Answered riddles?
Paid the piper?
Endured the microscope?
The other mice are scratching
scratching scatching on the door
in suits and ties and pleated skirts
clutching tightly to their scripts
Like I was
Ten minutes ago
But now
I don’t want it.
And the Rat King spins around
taps his pencil on the desk
adjusts his crown
“What role do you see yourself playing
in the Kingdom?”
Lifeless drone in a court jester costume?
That has never been my dream.
And they scratch and squeek outside
All no longer civilized
And staying here is suicide
No longer will I justify
So thank you, Rat king, for your time.
I believe your subjects
are waiting.