It's a Pasqually thing

Chapter One: Pasqually

Pasqually's POV

The complaining only increased when Chuck waited for me to catch up and make a large pepperoni pizza. It still had five minutes left in the oven, and I knew I couldn't rush it. Sweat beaded on my forehead and I wiped it away quickly with my sleeve, rolling it back up instantly afterward.

When the pizza finished, I could see Chuck's impatience clear as day, his green eyes glossing over me in shame. I quickly pulled it out and cut it into twelve slices quickly. I put it on a tray and handed it to Chuck, who muttered, "It could have been faster, but thank you."

Why was he my boss? I was genuinely confused as to why I decided to work for a mouse who was about as grateful as a two year old. He's not a bad guy, he's just extremely rude to me sometimes. I sighed. Just because he was rude to me, doesn't mean I could be rude back.

I tried to focus solely on my job, since that should be the only thing that matters. I couldn't help now and again but wonder why I was still here, however. Pasqually you sound like a baby. Cut it out and get back to work. Even my thoughts acted nicer than Chuck does sometimes, and my thoughts wanted me out as much as he does.

After work, I was getting ready to go home. Chuck stopped me from leaving and asked me what happened with the pizza. I told him I didn't do anything, and he called me a liar. He then showed me the conspiracy theory that the pizza was recycled, and I was entirely to blame. Well I'm sorry that you feel that way, but take your emotions out on someone else you little crap.

Chuck wanted me to go home, and so I did. I was better off away from him anyway. I slid the key into the door lock of my house and my head filled with memories of the crap Chuck always make me go through. I felt lower than him, smaller than him, and I felt much weaker than him. A tear trickled it's way onto my cheek and I wiped it away quickly while rolling my sleeves down but keeping them at my wrists this time.

It was never just Chuck either. Helen and Jasper would take chunks out of me when they had the chance. Munch did too, but at least he didn't do it so often. I accepted these people for being orphaned, from another planet, homosexual, animals in my kitchen and everything in between, but could never get the same respect back. It bothered me a lot, and angered me quite a bit. I gave up the rest of my life for this rodent and his crappy friends.

At that moment, my phone rang. Suzie was on the other end when I picked up. "Oh hello, Suzie" I called into the receiver with an enthusiastic tone while holding back more tears. She was the only one who cared for me, and holding this back felt somewhat wrong. My disguise voice was no use, because I swear that woman can see right through me.

"You okay?" She asked, voice full of concern. That's one thing I loved about her: she was there for me. "Because you're not sounding too good." I had to be honest with her, but not too honest. "Yeah, just a rough day at work I guess."

I could almost see her raising an eyebrow when she asked "You guess? That mouse has abandoned the meaning of respect those who respect you, and 'you guess' work was just rough?"

"Suzie, I promise work was fine."

"I'm coming over there."

"Wait, what? Here? Now? Why?"

"Pasqually, I mean it. I want you to be okay. Now I'm coming over there whether you like it or not. Meet you in ten."

After that, Suzie hung up. She insisted she come over, and I can't exactly argue with a girl. I also couldn't argue with the fact that I loved her for that, either. If only I had more friends like her, who would walk to my house to cheer me up when I felt down.

Oh hey that's not a bad idea. Make new friends. Maybe if I didn't show up to work tomorrow and spent the time looking for nice friends, I would have more people like Suzie in my life. I thought twice about leaving work, and then I realized Crappy Cheese wouldn't care anyway. Fire me. You're only helping the thing you swore to destroy.

Suzie arrived with a container of food and we sat on the couch, watching TV. She handed me the food and hugged at my arm. "Listen to me, Pasqually" she said in a half-lecturing tone. "Don't, not even for a second, listen to what that mouse has to say. He is wrong." She then leaned in to whisper, "and I mean it."