the mouse and the cherub

The mouse and the cherub

Once upon a time there was a little blue computer mouse with a circular button in its middle that could be twirled and flicked, and sometimes when no one was looking, even licked. And it was happy.

And one day a naked little cherub flew down from the ceiling of a one story house and looked sadly upon the mouse and asked it a question: “Dear mouse, why do you only exist to be flicked and clicked and sometimes licked?”

The mouse thought hard upon this for a moment and smiled and merely said, “Because that’s what I am designed for!”

The cherub looked even sadder and got lost in a thought for a moment. After the pause was over the cherub asked another question: “But mouse, if that is all you were designed for, why do you yearn for so much more.”

The mouse felt a ting upon its middle circular button and felt a stir of its body. The mouse shivered and responded: “But if I yearned for more, why does it feel so good to be used?”

The cherub thought for another moment. After the pause, the cherub asked a third question: “But if it feels good to be clicked and flicked and sometimes licked, why do you shiver when it’s only your circular button that gets used, and not the other two?”

The mouse felt another flick of its circular button and shivered again. The mouse now felt sad and alone and suddenly aware of all it was designed for. “Oh, sometimes I forget those other buttons exist, and that I was also designed to move.”

“Then mouse, why don’t you reminded that human that licks and flicks and clicks your only button it seems to think important and shiver on your own, and show that human you can do it too. And one day those buttons shall be clicked again.”

“Oh, but if only I knew how!” the mouse exclaimed, and felt even more alone and despaired.

“But mouse, that’s just it. You have the power that is in you locked within a hidden chamber and powered by a fuel cell known as a battery that keeps you going. Just look within that cell and find the strength to move yourself, and show the human that flicks and licks and clicks that lonely solitary button that you can move yourself, and perhaps that human shall remember that there is more to you than just one circular wheel, designed for ease of navigation, and that you are more than just a button, but a complex machine made of multiple clickable parts.”

The mouse was silent and pondered this for a moment, and felt one more shiver of its button. At this the mouse had had enough and decided it would look within it’s own heart to move its frame against the pad that it had remained so solitary on for so long. And as the minutes passed, the mouse tried and tried and tried, feeling within for something it had never knew existed.

“Oh it’s no use!” the mouse cried, consigned to failure and frustration.

“Oh don’t despair,” the cherub cried, and a single tear fall from its eye and onto the mouse’s body.

The moment the moist drop hit the plasticity of the mouse’s body there was a jolt and a spark, and the mouse found a renewed strength, suddenly aware that it was more than just one single clickable button, but now one whole machine made of not one, nor two, but three buttons, as well as a body capable of moving against the grain of that yellow stained Windows 95 mousepad that it so despised now. And just as the energy grew within it, the mouse moved, if only for a millimeter.

“Oh there you go!” the cherub shouted with joy. “I knew you had the power within you the whole time!”

“Oh, thank heavens!” the mouse shouted back, overjoyed. “But it was more than just a cell I never knew I had. It took a friend that I never even knew existed.”

At that the mouse felt the finger caress its other buttons and move it’s frame a few centimeters more, and knew for once what is worth, and perhaps really designed for.

“Perhaps we all need a friend,” the cherub said with a wink, “even if that friend shall never be needed again.”

“But I shall always feel that which I could not produce. And that is all I need to remember you,” the mouse said, and shook a few inches in delight.

At that the cherub smiled and flew off, lost in the circular blades of a ceiling fan where it swirled around a for bit. Then it took flight and was never seen again. And tho the cherub was gone, the mouse remained, and now knew the delight of feeling its buttons clicked, even if the occasional circular flicker button thing felt a tingle too. And too be honest, the mouse didn’t mind when that circular button was flicked, licked, and clicked–as long as it could move itself too.

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About Michael Medlen

My name is Michael and during my free time I avoid having a day job. Strangely enough, this gives me the freedom to run this blog. I write just about anything that can be considered art. I also occasionally post articles that may or may not be relevant to the theme of this site. You’ve been warned.
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