The Rise of the Mouse

The Rise of the Mouse

The Old man, slowly sat down, groaning as he sat on his favorite chair, an old pile of tires in the corner of their small shack. The sun shined through the holes in the tin roof, and the faint sound of people waking up resonates from the surrounding shacks in the small shanty town of New Orleans, once a beautiful city now lay in ruins due to recent fighting between the TomorrowMen and the MRP. The old man wore a faint smile despite his failing health "Thomas..." He says quietly, gesturing to his young grandson to come sit before him. The boy, no older than 10, had dust colored hair and bright blue eyes full of curiosity. He sat on the dirt floor in front of his Grandfather, smiling widely "Are you gonna tell me a new story grampa?!" The boy asks, almost literally bouncing with excitement. His Grandfather chuckles lightly, nodding. "I'm going to tell you the story of the mouse." His grandfather says his voice low and solemn. "Many years ago, I was a young boy, just like you. Back then the mouse made cartoons, and movies." His grandson speaks up quickly "What's a movie grandpa?" The old man smiles "They're like really long cartoons." He explains to the young boy before continuing, "Back then, the men who owned the mouse wanted more and more money, so they kept buying other companies. However, word got out into the global community that a huge vein of Uranium was uncovered in Antarctica, and the mouse wanted it, they wanted more power, more money. "The boy interrupts once again "What's Aranium?" His grandfather's eyes glazes over for only a moment, the old man thinks for a moment "Remember the big bombs when we have to hide?" The boy nods, his mind racing between his many memories cowering in the hole dug in the bottom of the shack but hidden with a rug, to stay safe when the Mouse bombed. "Those bombs are made out of Uranium, it's what makes them go boom." His grandfather continues, "So, the mouse bought a Mining company, but it kept getting attacked by people who wanted the Uranium as well.. mercenaries" A series of knocks on the door interrupts the man, it's a code, 2 knocks, 2 knocks, 3 knocks, 3 knocks the decrepit old man smiled as he softly sang a familiar tune "It's a great big beautiful tomorrow.."