It’s wooden, it weighs five pounds, it has steel whiskers–it’s logmouse.
If logmouse COULD burrow into your wall at night, that would be a Very Bad Thing. Because logmouse is big. It would, granted, be an impressive sound, a bit like a table saw. And you wouldn’t have to install a cat door afterward. Of course, your cat will be outside, far away from your home. What could it do? It wouldn’t CHASE logmouse. Logmouse might roll over on it.
Logmouse is made of only the finest choice cuts from the scrap bin. Its ears are cross-sections of fallen oak branches, making it the mightiest of mice. Its body was hewn from a railway tie, the kind that, say, John Henry might beat into the ground. In fact, this is a mouse of the same legendary stature of those great heroes of American folk tale. Maybe this mouse struck out across the country to find The Big Cheese. Maybe, maybe, it did.
It’s almost sad to find this creature on the shelf at Goodwill. On the other hand, I can’t think of any place it would be more at home in. At Goodwill, no-one will say “Go away, we don’t want you here because your whiskers are made of rusted steel and your eyes are hammered on. They aren’t going to say “We don’t want your kind. You’re clearly a C- in Woodshop, and we only take the top 25% of the class here.” They’ll never say, at Goodwill, “Please depart, I fear that you will burrow under the shop and eat our foundations, and like Ygdrasil our inevitable fall will signify the end of the world.”
No, they’ll just say “$2.99, Housewares.”
Housewares? Would anyone eat off of this?
Goodwill near Stassney and Manchacha, Austin