Leonard was a mouse. And always had been one as far as he could remember, (which wasn't long). He was not any different than most mice, save the fact that his name was... well- Leonard. He like most other mice lived right in the midst of a great war. Not
the Great War, but
a great war. This war raged on day and night, never ceasing. It was, as you have probably guessed, a war between Leonard's family and the family of Farm Cats. Yes- Leonard lived on a farm.
He'd lived in the old mouse hole in the old farmhouse his entire life, from the time he was born in fact. The mouse hole in which he lived had been in his family for generations. Nearly three hundred generations had lived in that hole before Leonard, and many more generations will live in it in years to come most likely.
As I said before... Leonard was a mouse; which meant one thing- it meant that he was a mouse. Plain and simple. And now that you are introduced to our principal character, I will begin the story. Don't worry; I will introduce the other characters in the story as I progress. Now to begin!
It was a clear, crisp November morning... Just kidding. It was actually a very hot, humid afternoon in the middle of September. (The first beginning was too picturesque and typical). So anyway...
It was a hot, grimy, humid afternoon near the beginning of September. The leaves had not yet begun to fall. The corn was just starting to turn brown, as the moisture slowly escaped into the over-moist atmosphere. Pumpkins were soon to be harvested. (I assume so anyway... I have absolutely no knowledge of pumpkin farming, it just sounds right). The day was so sweltering that even the ducks had no wish to leave the shade of their barn to swim in the pond.
It was on this day, that poor Leonard's adventures began. (Remember, Leonard was a mouse). He had just finished his lunch of corn and- corn.
Patting his chubby, little stomach, Leonard sat back against the wall of the barn and heaved a great sigh of relief. He burped a bit too, but we'll talk less of that. They were teeny burps anyway, because he was a mouse, and mice by nature are teeny.
After he had finished performing the afore-mentioned activities, he stood up and traipsed through the barn door and outside into the great, sweaty heat. Brushing a bead of sweat from his forehead, he said to himself, "It is so hot out here."
This brilliant observation, I hope you have already gathered, was correct.
Poor, little Leonard. (Note I call him
poor, little Leonard. Emphasis on the "poor", which suggests that something unpleasant is about to happen to him).
What is that unpleasant thing which is about to happen to him? I haven't decided yet, so I guess I'll tell you another time.
Hang in there people. Let me know what you think, and yeah...
I'm cool.
I'm me.
I'm Eddy Blakeston.
