I flew up close to the night sky. The whole city was in the palm of my hand.
The winking of lights, the roar of cars, a distant whining from the sewer. The wailing of tickled grannies.
Sweet music to Mikva's ears.
Magnificent. But the night is not yet over.
Wait a moment...what's that sound? As if I could hear a mouse squeaking.
I look right and I look left, but I see no mouse.
I circle over the city, but find nothing that accounts for it.
Over there I spy a drunken pensioner, pushing a pram - could that be
the source of the squeaking? Somewere else a gentleman in a suit, probably an entrepreneur,
is walking stealthily with a case-full of stolen cash, keeping
to the shadows, the way I like it.
And somewhere else again a couple is quarrelling in a window, beating each
other over the head with sticks, that's the way to do it! And what else?
A twelve-year old schoolboy, shouldn’t two bottles of rum be enough for him?
Well now...
I fly down lower almost to the pavement. And what do I see? Outlined in the back light
on the opposite side there's a huddled figure, making noises that resemble the squeaking of a mouse.
I fly right down to the paving stones. The figure turns round. It's
a young girl, and tears are streaming down her cheeks.
It is a young girl and the tears are running down her cheeks.
"Why are you squeaking, little girl? " Asks Mikva the Appalling.
"I'm not squeaking, I'm crying," she retorts.
"So why are you crying, little girl?" Asks Mikva the Appalling.
"I'm crying because of my machine."
"And what's the matter with this machine?" Asks Mikva.
"It's broken, It won't work at all."
"And what does it do when it works?", asks frightful Mikva.
"You can write on it", says the little girl.
"Is that so important? " inquires Mikva.
"It can do other things as well. All kinds of things. You just move the mouse
and words appear from my friends. But now it's just a dark cold screen. "
"Aha, that's why you were squeaking like a mouse. You were trying to call the machine back to you."
The girl hid her head and burst into yet more desperate lamentations.
"It's gone, gone, gone, oh, oh..! Never again will I stroke its little white mouse body.
Never again will I stick its electric plug into its socket." And she wept and wept.
At this point a remarkable thing happened. Mikva wiped her face and sniffed into a handkerchief.
"Your poor little thing, " she said, "I'm so terribly sorry. I'll get you another computer."
She reached into her pocket for the wallets appropriated from the customers of the massage salon.
"Here you are, little one, " sobbed Mikva, "Take this. Its my savings of many years,
I scarcely had enough to eat, but now I see that you need the money more. You deserve it."
She held it out to the girl, who stared at her in astonishment and excalimed "But I can't take it!"
"Of course you can", wept Mikva, "it's yours. Pray for Mikva the Appalling, pray that she goes to heaven."
She spread her wings and flew skywards.
"I am stunned by your nobility, Madam", called the girl, and began to collect up the notes that were
scattered about on the pavement. "It will be enough for a very powerful machine," she said, as she counted it up.
And so like so many others, this story has a happy end. Mikva turned out well, and the girl had a computer
again.
Good night!
