You must have wondered what the muscle that controls the people in Serbia was doing last weekend. After the visit to China, in which the mouse was welcomed with adequate honors and shown humanoid robots, which will one fine day replace humans in the mouse kingdom, it was time to return to the mouse hole.
“Whoa,” thought our muscle, “I’m not very happy that I have to go back. The blockaders have become more dangerous than cats. There’s no way I can fight them, no, not even reduce their numbers. Whoever cursed me, didn’t hurt me, this mouse’s whole life is miserable, miserable…” and everything like that. We urgently needed to find something that would relax our muscles, but what?
He enjoyed the graduation street celebrations, primarily because he earned a solid income selling flags with curly Jesus, ‘No to EU/NATO’ and ‘No Surrender’, which ended up in the hands of little ones, who the day after tomorrow will be conscripts in the army, which the mouse will send to perish in Kosovo. What wonderful children.
Mišić then jumped to Orlovat, to see what was there. It was boring, the muscle was completely tired. “Ciju, ciu, ciu!”, he shouted. “What a stupid idea, a hundred cat tails! I have to come up with something even better!” Then he jumped on Konjdilomfer TV and announced a big event, which he will organize in his honor in Belgrade, on Mišovdan.
Ugh, that didn’t make him happy, when he calculated how much money he would have to cough up in order to lure his hordes to Belgrade. There was no guarantee that there would be as many of them as he would have liked, moreover, he knew that he would look ridiculous compared to the scrofulous party at Slavia. “Okay, then I’ll get myself a big banner that says ‘The Mouse Wins!’, that always helps.”
In Belgrade, on the same day, in the middle of the “Albania” palace, a big banner “The mouse wins!” However, not even fifteen minutes had passed, and a problem appeared. Blockadeers ruined the celebration this time too, saying that the banner prevents some birds from reaching the chicks.
“Hehe,” the muscle rubbed its paws, “the banner turned out to be doubly useful. Not only does it remind the worthies of who wins, but it also endangers the life of the birds, which did not bring any good to any mouse.” As time went on, the fuss that the strokaders made about the banner grew more and more. They came under the palace, tore the banner, shouted that the mouse was a killer.
“Birdkiller, so what! Ciju ci!”, the little mouse flaunted in front of the mirror, pumping his biceps. “Mommy will be proud of me.” Drekka, however, became so unbearable that the muscle had to think. No one understands his happiness over killing birds. Stupid people. The birds will one day kill them all via magical flu, and they will.
It’s not worth it. Mišić ordered that the banner be taken down, and that twenty more of them be raced all over Serbia, in the hope that no one would notice the nests hiding behind them. Mišić was able to sleep relatively peacefully and wait for this Monday with partial peace.
The views of the authors in the Dialog column do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Danas.
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