A fable has been written about a city mouse that moved to the countryside and took up residence inside the walls of an old farm house…
From the start, that city mouse lorded it over the country mice. He grew handlebar whiskers. He put mousse on his hair. He talked with a fake exotic accent. He told the country mice that they were beneath him, or as he put it, they they came “from the wrong side of the mouse tracks.” Every day the newcomer bragged about his forebears, and when he ran out of ancestors he made some up. “My great-great-great-grandfather,” he said, “was a theater mouse in Paris. My family came to America in the bridal suite of a great French ocean liner. My brother is now a restaurant mouse at the exclusive ’21’ in New York.”
One day the city mouse wandered through the forbidden walls of the country house to show his inferiors he knew his way around. By…
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