When I was a kid, I desperately wanted a dog (shocking, no?). My parents didn’t cave until I was 13, when they bought my sisters and I the craziest Dalmatian you’ve ever met; however that is a story for another time.
For years I tried to trick them into letting me get a pet. When kittens were born (every 4 months) under the dumpster behind our elementary school, I’d bring the mewling, flea-covered kittens to my mom’s office and dare her to look into their crusty little eyes and deny them a home. Every science fair I begged my mom to let me get mice to train in a maze. Actually, if we’re being truthful here, first I asked for rats, thinking she’d never go for that and then I could maybe bargain her down to mice.
Thus began my unhealthy obsession with lab mice and rats. Reading “Flowers for Algernon” only intensified my longing; of course my little mouse would be a genius. I re-read the description of the mouse habitat built by the Grandmother in Roald Dahl’s “The Witches” and fantasized about the tunnels and mazes I’d make so my mice minions could follow me around the house, safely out of the grasp of my little sisters.
One of my favorite movies as a kid was “The Secret of NIMH.” I still have a VHS copy that I watch sometimes as I fall asleep. I popped it in to watch again last night. As I lay there, waiting for my bed to warm up and fighting the dogs for blankets, I found myself devising a drinking game to go along with the movie.
Take a drink every time Mrs. Brisby is referred to as “Mrs. Jonathan Brisby.”
Take a drink every time Jeremy the Crow sneezes.
Take a drink every time Auntie Shrew r-r-r-r-r-rolls her R’s.
Take a drink every time Cynthia says “Timmy’s sick!”
I could go on. Not only was I laying in bed making up drinking games that no one besides me would ever want to play, I started thinking about what a great blog post it would make.
Clearly I am scraping the bottom of the barrel for post ideas.