The Rockin' Rodents

Where is my Mind?

Ger and Jerry got to the love shack quite early. Johnny had made Ger and Ari spare keys, so they could pop in and practice whenever they liked. He said that every rocker needed their fortress of solitude. Ger had laughed at him.

"How much more isolated could we be in Ballycraicsdown? "

When Ger let himself and Jerry in, he suddenly appreciated Johnny's foresight. Behind the four thick brick walls of the old converted farm shed, he fell to his knees onto the Persian patterned rug, surrounded by the bands' instruments and CDs, and sobbed.

"That's it, kid, you let it out," said Jerry Lee Mouse as he leaped up onto his shoulder and hugged him.

That's exactly what Ger did with the mouse's encouragement because rodents knew that one of the humans many, many problems is that they are capable of great depths of feeling, they hear it in the rock songs they sing, but for some reason humans kept that beauty buried deep, almost afraid of their passions.

"What am I going to do?" he asked Jerry.

The mouse stared at Ger with his dark bulbous eyes for a moment, because it wasn't an easy question to answer at the best of times, only to shrug and say

"We'll do what we always do kid. We'll follow the music," he said running down the zipper of Ger's black Metallica sweater and grabbing Ger's MP3 player and headphones.

"Walking the dog? Not a great name for an album; a little pedestrian if you ask me," Jerry said scanning through Ger's playlists.

"It's a playlist"

"A playlist?" Jerry looked confused. The rats and mice of Sewerville were still on 80's listening tech, CDs, and quite a few cassettes, and if you were rolling in it, a vinyl player.

"Yeah, a list of songs you listen to."

"Like the greatest hits?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Ger admitted.

"It's what I listen to when I walk the dog. It's themed. You know; Black Dog by Zeppelin, Dog Eat Dog by AC/DC" explained, glad that he could think about something normal and every day.

"Hound Dog by Elvis?" suggested Jerry hopefully.

"No, but good one," answered Ger.

"Do you let the dog listen to it?" the mouse asked.

"Don't be silly, animals don't..." Ger stopped. He could see where this was going.

"Don't what?" asked the mouse.

"You're different, you're a figment of my imagination brought on by hallucinatory drugs."

"You're not on drugs now," the mouse pointed out.

"Why are you still here then?" asked Ger

"Maybe you need a friend" replied the Mouse finally finding what he was looking for.

He connected the MP3 player to the speakers in the love shack and played Where is my Mind? by the Pixies. A fragile yet abrasive song filled the air and described the free-floating sensation of scuba diving beside the sublime blooming of a coral reef.

Two friends, one real and one the saint of lost musicians reincarnated in the body of a mouse sat back and listened to the sound of something indefinably beautiful.