The Rockin' Rodents

Dancing Queen

Ger put on his headphones and picked out the song Country Road on his traveling playlist. The concrete of Dublin quickly shifted into endless boxes of green fields hedged rowed off, occasionally interrupted by farmhouses and barns.

Ariana sat rigid straight, legs crossed. Instead of the tight jeans and Ramones t-shirt, she now wore a blue dress and matching light gray veil over her hair and neck, with only her olive-skinned face poking out, big black fly eyed sunglasses rested on her long pointed nose, covering her eyes the color of ripe green grapes on a summer's day. Only her mouth twisted into a pout with neon Barbie girl pink lipstick, showed any remaining traces of the punk.

Ariana didn't want anyone in her family to think she would be outside in any other type of attire. They were quite strict Muslims, or at least when it came to her and her mother they were. Johnny had pointed out that her father and brothers were less strict about the Koran's rules about drinking alcohol, down at the Nag's Head, than they should be. Especially since they ran the place. Ari had written a song about it. "Islamic Barkeep, Vegan Butcher."

Ger lay down on the row of seats in front of Ariana, with his backpack as a pillow and tried to write in his notebook, but part of the coming down from his psychosomatic high was that Gerry's brain just couldn't process anything, and all he could manage was a series of pointless doodles, that just turned into mice after a while.

Ger glanced over at the zonked-out form of Johnny and took out his earphones.

"Are we wasting our time?" he asked Ariana in a low voice,

Johnny lived for the band and Ger didn't want him to hear his doubts.

"What do you mean?"

"Ari, last night was a dumpster fire of a gig."

"Are we wasting our time with the band? No! What are you saying? Are you thinking about leaving us? Is that it Ger? Are you leaving the band?" Ari as always wasn't so subtle, and Gerry could feel a light splattering of spittle mixed with rage.

"No!" Ger placed a finger to his mouth and threw a glance over at Johnny and continued in a hushed voice hoping Ariana would get the hint about not wanting Johnny to hear.

"But come on. Six people, Ari. It's impossible. Nobody even listens to rock anymore, unless it's some over-filtered, auto-tuned, drum machined tick-tock dance craze pop shit."

"Is that what you think? That we're wasting our time? So we're not hacks! We're artists Ger. We're rockers. We're the voice of the revolution, and that's what the world needs right now. What's this really about? Is it because I spiked your drink, because I already apologized, and well, to be honest apart from being in the band, it's probably the most rock and roll thing you've ever done."

Gerry had been waiting for that. Ariana was always on about how not "rock and roll" he was.

"So which is it, Ari? Are we the next fucking French revolution or a bunch of junkies? Is that what music means to you? Is that all it is? Some exercise in being a poser? Is being too cool for school our only ambition? Which, by the way, I notice you're not so revolutionary around your family with your hajib and good girl thing you've got going. What would your dad think about you doing drugs?" Now the anger he'd held back last night came spilling out.

Gerry got a sinking feeling when the Bono Fly eyeglasses came off and Ari undid her veil releasing her mop of badly dyed blond curls like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. If butterflies swore and bit and kicked, screaming as they came into the world.

"Listen Ger, this is all I've got. I live this, I sleep this, it's all I've ever wanted. Don't you dare question my dedication to the band, don't confuse this" she lifted the veil "as a weakness. It's not. I keep my responsibilities to my family and I follow my dreams. It's a strength. What did you expect from our first gig? We're lucky those six people were there. Do you see? This is why I spiked your drink. It's not about the destination, it's the adventure." Ariana continued with the lie. She recognized the fired-up passionate dreamer. The person Ger had been before his dad had started drinking harder than before.

"There was probably an easier way to make that point," replied Ger.

"Like what?"

"Like asking me if I wanted to get high?"

"Yeah, sorry... again..."

Ger could see that her guilt about last night was sincere. Even if that sincerity was built on a story. Even Ariana had doubts if the fiction they were both in would end up working out.

"But you would have said no." Ariana still had to get the last word in. This wasn't what she'd expected of her plan. Instead of getting Ger out of his head, he wanted to get out of the band. What she couldn't see was that one thing had lead to another. Ger getting out of his comfort zone had made him confront the hard realization that the band wasn't very good, and being a musician was a lot tougher than his dreams had made out.

"Mouse! She sure has got spirit." Ger nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the chainsaw tones of Jerry Lee Mouse, which he supposed was a figment of his imagination.

"Ger, are you okay? You look like you've seen a..."

She stopped, as she looked in the same place as Ger was looking. She couldn't see the mouse as only Ger was a lost musician at this point. The patron saint of lost musicians only appeared to those who needed him.

"A cat! The expression is... like you've seen a cat," said Jerry even though Ariana couldn't see him.

For a second, Ger took solace in the fact that only one of them could see and hear the mouse, but then he thought that perhaps that was worse. He was certain the drugs had worn off, apart from the coming down.

"Am I losing it?" he asked himself.

"Kid, you better do something to assure your pretty lady that you haven't gone stark raving bonkers, otherwise this is going to get even more uncomfortable," advised Jerry Lee Mouse.

"Yeah, I'm fine, still a little woozy after last night, I think I'll go and get a coffee, do you want anything?"

Gerry was gone before Ari could answer no, but of course, she didn't notice the mouse in leather trousers, snakeskin boots, and a denim shirt running behind him. Ariana let him go, deciding to wake up johnny in a couple of minutes and send him after Ger.

Gerry walked to the restaurant car, rocking to and fro in the rhythm of the train where they served sandwiches and coffee and got some warm milky mud-colored water in a polystyrene cup. He sat further down the car, as far away from a couple who were cooing over their newborn baby, as he could.

"So, what is this?" he whispered to the mouse as he hopped from the seat up onto the white plastic table. "Are you another hallucination?"

"Listen, kid, I'm the patron saint of lost musicians reincarnated in the body of a mouse. You are very, very lost and I'm here to help you," said the mouse.

"Say what now?" Ger asked wondering if the drugs (which he hadn't taken) might cause long-term problems.

"Are you lost or are you not?" the mouse asked losing his patience.

"Well, we're on the train home so..."

"Damn it, kid, you mean to tell me that you spent your life watching Disney movies about singing boars and wisecracking genies and this is hard to believe?" said the mouse losing his temper, and cursing the day he'd taken the bet with the Buddha. Being a mouse made his life just so much more difficult.

"Yeah, but they're movies. This is reality, isn't it?"

"Listen, Kid, I got Hendrix, Lennon, Marc Bolan, and Lynard Skynard back on track and into the rock n' roll hall of fame, and I can do the same for you," said the mouse.

"They all died young," Ger pointed out.

"That's nothing to do with me, I only handle the musical inspirational side of things," explained the mouse.

"Like a muse, ya mean?" Ger proposed.

"Na, bunch of temp workers those girls, not very reliable," said Jerry " Me? I get results. Trust in me kid and I'll take you all the way to the top," he said trusting a claw into the air for emphasis. "Step one from the Disney playbook, tell an inspirational story full of platitudes," Jerry said, glad to be finally back on his game plan.

"I've got to admit, I'm kind of curious, what happened when you got home?" asked Ger, happy for the distraction of the story.