FIGS COMMUNICATIONS

"I know you're against this mission, but there's really nothing you or I can do," Chester said to Mr. T. "I have orders from the Mouse King."
Maybe you're familiar with the Mouse King. He's best known for his bout with the Nutcracker. Now, many years later, the Mouse King continues to rule mice colonies in the tri-state area. The Mouse King has placed Chester in command of an invasion on human territory and former general Mr. Trent Termite is very much against the invasion.
"Yes, I realize that," Trent Termite said, "but I feel like I'm obligated to tell you my legion has conducted a rather large excursion in the past and we ended up being smoked out. We had many casualties, I'm afraid. We had such trouble getting past the babysitter that we had to form an ally with the roaches! And believe me, that's always our last resort." Trent adjusted his position on the leaf he was lying on to reveal his battle scars: his back left leg was nonexistent, and a large gouge was outlined by his hard body skeleton. Hoping the signs of pain he went through would change the Lieutenant's mind about the invasion, Trent tried to make himself appear as helpless as ever as he summoned an ant slave over to pull the leaf-sled into the shade.
Chester spoke with certainty. "I'm quite familiar with the sacrifices your troupe has made for the freedom of your species, and I've always admired the bravery you and your army have fought with. There's no doubt in my mind my army will also face many challenges and encounter pain, but it's my duty, as you're well aware, to restore honor to the king and Parliament." The lieutenant spoke from the heart, trying to make Trent understand they were both on the same level. "We're mice of honor, Mr. T., and I'd be very grateful if you gave me your blessing to proceed with my excursion. I want to depart on good terms, seeing as I may never have a chat with you again." There was some truth in this last line, but Chester was also exaggerating a bit in order to create the right emotions in Mr. T.
Mr. T. looked highly uncomfortable as he tried to find the right words to respond with. Finally he said, "Chester, I've known you since you were just a mouseling."—he sighed, reminiscing for a moment, then resumed—"But it's been a long time since then, and I've watched you grow into the intelligent, loyal and brave leader you are today. I know you're the perfect mouse for this mission, and I have great faith you will return with the symbolic element of victory." He smiled up at Chester, "We're so lucky to have you as a protector, and me and my species wish you and yours the best of luck on the mission."
Chester's white-tinted face lit up. "Oh, thank you sir! I promise I'll finish what you've started. And I'll be back before the Autumnal Equinox." With that, Chester patted Mr. T. on the head with his tail, a sign of affection and admiration, and departed from the shady spot, scurrying along the base of the fence, the safest way to get from one place to another.
Overall, the mice colony was very well-established and had become familiar with the back and front yard road map and layout. Knowing the layout of the yards is so crucial to each member of the colony that during the summer after mating season, the king holds a mandatory meeting under the retired birdbath. Families split into groups where they're instructed on how to maneuver in the yards, how to behave when encountered with an obstacle, what the different noises in the Mice Emergency Notification Signals (MENS) means, and are drilled in how to properly execute the emergency escape route. This route takes the mice through the broken gutter and into a meadow on the other side of the fence. Tall grass and flowers disguise several small holes in the ground where bases have been dug. The bases are then guarded by squirrels who bring back food for the escapees and signal when the surface is clear.
The mice had already claimed the land in the front and back of the house; now all that was left was the house itself. That night, the troupes were assembled. Each soldier was equipped with a twig bow and eight pine needle arrows. The attack route was already mapped out according to the living habits of the inhabitants. It took weeks before they had gathered enough information to pursue the mission. On the broken walkway behind the shed they used bits of charcoal and white rock to record the times each member of the household left and entered. It was important to observe these patterns in order to plan a safe and effective entrance into the home. After giving an invigorating pep talk, Chester instructed his soldiers to go to their assigned posts stationed around the perimeter of the house. It was now about 7:30 A.M. according to their sundial. This was the perfect time to invade because the two large humans left the house, the largest departing first, followed shortly after by the second largest with her two smaller humans.
"At the ready, mice! Charge!" Chester shouted, waving his needle sword ferociously in the air. The mice scurried into the house-some going under the porch to get to the sunroom, others gnawing on window screens and squeezing in-using their tails to pull each other up the vinyl siding and onto window sills. Once everyone was inside, the army regrouped and several officers pulled out their leaf maps of the premises and rounded up their team. The teams had specific areas to scope out. Each team had a spy who went ahead of the team to scout the territory, making sure it was safe to proceed.
The spies utilized the "scurry, sniff, flinch" tactic, which required them to use all their senses at their highest levels of operation. According to data recorded for many centuries in the Mouse Military Tactics logbook in the Museum of Rodent History, this method of surveillance has outlived all other methods.
Chester commanded the larger team that headed up to the attic-the premium spot for a military base, seeing that the humans never went up there. Well, at least not until
Chester and his army came. It was later that same day, after the humans ate their supper and were having "quiet time" in their family room, that they heard something out of the ordinary.
"Honey, do you hear that? It sounded like clicking," Jerry said to his wife who was reading a romance novel in the rocking chair.
Not looking up from the book, Joyce replied, "You probably hear Meg typing in the other room, or the baby in her highchair."
Becoming more curious as to where the source of the noise was, Jerry got up and put down his newspaper, listening hard for the noise again. "Unless Meg is typing in the ceiling, it's not her."
Realizing her husband was onto something, Joyce joined her husband, staring at the ceiling. They both followed the noise into the kitchen, when Archibald, the officer of the "kitchen team," attempted to distract them from the noises Chester's team was making at the base. He scurried out from under the refrigerator and squeaked.
"Jerry, look! A mouse! Get the spatula!" Joyce climbed onto the granite island and crouched, pointing to the place where Archibald was on the floor. All the while, the baby bounced in the chair and clapped, sending Cheerios flying from the tray in from of him.
Jerry twirled around and Archibald made direct eye contact, holding a steady, intimidating stare, determined to never back down. Jerry let out a squeak too, which surprised Archibald. Jerry amused him for a moment by prancing in place as if he were skipping through double dutch ropes. Luckily, Archibald bolted under the oven just as Jerry threw the spatula at his tail. That night at the base, Archibald's exciting story was the entertainment of the night.
The new day cam, bringing with it the sound of Joyce shrieking, "Mouse droppings!
ALL over my linens!" This was one of the scare tactics mice used to get the humans to evacuate. During the night, they had all gone into the dresser storing the tablecloths and had soiled them, marking their territory. They were one step closer to victory, and they could feel it. Proud of their conquest, the teams reported to the base to go over further plans.
But Jerry had a plan, too, and the mice didn't account for it. Earlier that evening, Jerry had set about 50 mouse traps (the paranoid human that he is). He couldn't wait to get rid of those pests. That night, when Jerry and Joyce and Meg and the baby were asleep, another noise was heard, this time by Joyce first.
"Hun, I am NOT going to be able to sleep with that noise. It's too disturbing." She shuddered and pulled the comforter over her head as the random snap snaps continued, at decreasing intervals.
Jerry didn't seem to care about the discomfort it was causing his wife as he lay smirking up at the ceiling with his arms crossed behind his head on the pillow. "It's the most beautiful sound," he boasted of this brilliant plan.
"Retreat!" Chester cried out to whomever was left.