“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.

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