The Country Mouse and the City Mouse

Once there was a country mouse who grew tired of the limited amusements available in his provincial town. He called up his cousin who lived in a luxury condo in the city.

“Put the sheets on the hide-a-bed cause I’m busting out of this burg,” said the country mouse.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” said his cousin.

“So much of your so-called sophistication is but a mere gossamer,” said the country mouse, rising to the level of platitudes. “What I don’t know won’t hurt me,” repeating something he had heard in another context.

“But what will you do for cheese?” asked the city mouse.

“I can get by on barley and corn,” said the country mouse.

“Oh God,” groaned his cousin.

When the country mouse arrived at his cousin’s place, he suggested that they see the sights.

“I was going to catch up on my reading,” said the city mouse, “but don’t let me spoil your fun.”

“Wouldn’t think of it,” said the country mouse.

“Ciao,” said the city mouse.

“No thanks, I’ll eat later.”

The country mouse hailed a cab and asked how much a ride to The Stork Club would cost.

“About five bucks,” said the cabbie, “not including gratuity.”

“Nice night for a walk,” said the country mouse.

Some time later the country mouse arrived at The Stork Club. “Gimme a table near the band,” he said.

“Do you have a reservation?” asked the stork d’hotel.

“Where I come from you don’t need one,” said the mouse.

“There will be a table available in about an hour, and the cover charge is $20,” said the stork, eyeing the mouse doubtfully.

“Forget it,” said the mouse, affecting an air of importance. “I’m a busy mouse.”

The country mouse checked his wallet and decided that his conquest of the city would have to wait until he had a little more walking-around money. “When I do things I do ’em right,” he said to himself. “I travel first-class and I bring my own carfare. I will soon have this city by the tail, if not the whiskers,” and with that he vowed to live frugally, save his money and rise slowly but relentlessly to the top.

On his way back to his cousin’s place the country mouse took an express train that deposited him in a strange neighborhood, where he was set upon by cats who cleaned him out.

Moral: Sophistication is a vain and empty thing, whose value is not appreciated.

 

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