FR
The cat, having been locked down
All spring long,
Was longing to sink his teeth
Into tender mice
And found himself most frustrated
When summer came
To have to keep his distance
To get some grub coming in.
While the mouse, having been dancing
Her heart's content and all she pleased,
Found herself quite upset
To go back to her life of yesteryear,
Forced to hide
And drop the carefree lifestyle
For her own survival.
“Hello, petit rat!” said the cat
Who happened to be passing by,
Drawn by the smell of tutu
And inebriated by sanitiser vapours.
“I am not a rat”
Replied the mouse to
The waste-smelling
Masked cad puss.
“Whatever you are, tiny ballerina,
You're now trapped like a rat”
Sneered the naughty cat
And devoured her
Without further ado.
Moral:
There is none.
This story is totally immoral.
© La Pensine Mutine. All rights reserved. Reproduction prohibited.
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