Three-legged Mouse Story

     "She was mad as hell. She was so angry she threw her winter boots at me. The first one hit me in the head. I ducked when she threw the other one."
     "Why'd she do it, Sam?"
     "Well, it was all on account of a mouse, a little field mouse, George."
     "A mouse? She got mad at you over a mouse?"
     "You bet she did. You see, I found this field mouse in the glove box of our pickup truck. It was eatin' some Burger King napkins stuffed there and it took some bites of the truck registration form too. When I opened the glove box, it scrambled and squeezed through a small crack and went into the engine compartment. Its tail stuck out for a moment--I got a piece of it."
     "I don't understand--"
     "Patience, George. Give me time to explain it. I looked for that mouse under the hood but never found it. So I sez to myself, I'll set a mouse trap in the glove box. And that I did."
     "Then what?"
     "Well, I darn near forgot about it 'til my wife drove the truck to the grocery store and back. She must of put her hand in the glove compartment, 'cause when she threw those winter boots one of her fingers had the mouse trap on it. Guess I forgot to tell her."
     "Guess she aimed to restore your memory."
     "I reckon. Now that you got me telling about it, her boot hittin' me in the head seems to have jarred free some long-ago memory about a mouse even stranger than that one."
     "Sam, we meet here in this diner every Wednesday morning for coffee, toast, ham and eggs, and you are always wearing that same old coat, watch cap and barn boots. Don't you have another coat?"
     "Do you want to hear a true story about a mouse with three legs?"
     "You gonna pull my tail again, Sam?"
     "God's honest truth, no need to lie to an old friend that knows me like a book. By the way, you never change your coat either."
     "Must be 'cause we're gettin' old, Sam. Go ahead, tell me about the mouse with three legs. I'm all ears."
     "Well, I intend to, if you don't mind hearing somethin' mighty unusual and odd--"
     "Go ahead--"
     "Well, my wife and I was sittin' in the living room one evening--this was years ago, we was youngsters--and the TV was the only light in the room. I hear this noise, and it wasn't the TV 'cause we had the sound turned off. We was gettin' ready for whoopee. It was a light-footed noise, something running across the floor, tap-tap-tap-tap. I got up from my chair and turned the light on. My wife screamed. It was a little mouse, and it was almost to the kitchen when it turned and ran to the coat closet off the living room. My wife said she'd never go in that closet again until I got rid of the mouse. So I set a trap that night. We heard it snap three nights later."
     "Did you catch it?"
     "Sort of--I mean, I got part of it--a leg. The rest of the mouse got away."
     "Where'd it go?"
     "Don't know. I don't know how it got in the closet in the first place."
     "End of story, Sam?"
     "Nope. That's just the beginnin'. Let me tell you, that was one brave and determined little mouse. Make a human look like a cry baby for complainin' about no shoes. I guess it got hungry, 'cause it come out early one night--we was watchin' TV and my wife was gettin' ready to bake an apple pie--we heard it walk across the living room floor again. This time it sounded different. The rhythm was changed. Instead of tap-tap-tap-tap, it was tap-tap-tap-kerplonk. We could tell right away it was the mouse with three legs."
     "What happened next?"
     "Well, I got up from my chair and went into the kitchen. My wife stayed in the living room. I looked around but the mouse had disappeared. I looked beneath the sink and didn't see it. Then I pulled out the bottom cabinet drawer beside the sink. There it was, as cute and self-absorbed as any mouse you ever saw, gnawing at a near empty bag of popcorn kernels. Let me tell you, that was a fat little mouse. I shut the drawer quickly and went for my toolbox."
     "Tool box?"
     "Yes, George, tool box. I got a hammer. I went back to that drawer and reopened it. The mouse was still there. Don't know how many times it ate there before I found it but that bag of popcorn kernels was near empty. The mouse jumped on top of a can of peas when it saw me the second time. I swung the hammer--"
     "Ha! I guess you nailed it?"
     "No, George, I missed it. I got the can of peas, though. Broke the lid and half-crushed the can. Splashed up to my face. What a mess! The mouse jumped--it was a front leg that was broke off--and it disappeared under the stove. I looked under the stove with a flashlight but didn't see it."
     "Where was your wife?"
     "She was right there. She saw everything. She was scared. She screamed once or twice, that's all I remember. She didn't care about the injured can of peas or the mess I made, even though she was a vegetarian. She said I was a damn fool for lettin' the mouse get away. The stove was on preheat, but she said she wasn't gonna bake no apple pie with a fat little mouse runnin' around the kitchen."
     "End of story, Sam?"
     "No, George, it ain't. Not by a long shot. My wife and I went back to the living room and sat down. We was watchin' a movie, The Sun Also Rises. There was a bullfight going on. There was matador music. But my wife wasn't interested. She nagged and ragged for over ten minutes. No whoopee tonight, I thought. Maybe I'll go back and look for the mouse under the stove, I told her. She said that was a good idea, why didn't I think of it ten minutes ago."
     "Guess the mouse got away, Sam?"
     "Wrong again, George. I was upset with the scoldin' and all--when all of a sudden my wife and I hear this loud poppin' noise in the kitchen. It was a sound that was familiar. We got up and went to the kitchen. The noise continued and it came from the stove. I guess we stood there over a minute, wonderin' what the hell was happenin'. When the poppin' noise stopped, I pulled open the stove door and a whole bunch of pink and grey colored popcorn come spillin' out on the floor. My wife screamed 'There's mouse fur in it, Sam.' We was both surprised, I tell you honestly."
     "The mouse exploded? You expect me to believe that?"
     "I may stretch the truth a little but I never tell a lie. The odd thing about it was, when I looked back in the living room, the TV movie showed that Spanish matador Pedro Romero receivin' an award of one or two ears from a bull he just killed.  The matador music was still playin' too. You know, I got an award at the same time. I counted two ears, a tail, and three legs on the floor."
     "Pardon me, but that sounds like real bull. That must be end of story, Sam?"
     "There's more, George. After I cleaned up the mess and cleaned myself, I got another award--or rather reward--that night. My wife stopped naggin' me about the mouse and she got real sweet and friendly with me. Guess she wasn't scared anymore. Called me her matador and her hero. Said I was the handsomest man in the world. When we got to bed, we had some wild whoopee the rest of the night."
     "Sam, I've known you and your wife for years. I'd believe the mouse stories before I believed that damn lie. Check, please."