Food for Thought
Valeria P.
Basil hung up his apron on the hook as he left the factory he worked at. His boss said he couldn’t pay him for another week, and who was Basil to argue? So he slowly walked down the dark alley back to his place that reeked of garbage. Then, his nose filled with the most scrumptious aroma, the one he looked forward to smelling each day as he walked to and from work. It was the light in his gray world. Le Lieu de Fromage, the most high-end, expensive restaurant Basil had ever seen, was just around the corner from his home. He peeked through the windows to watch all the mice eating there, wearing their fancy clothes, and speaking the most refined English. Of all the places Basil had seen or heard of, this restaurant was the one place he wanted to go. What was on the menu today? Brie? Camembert? Whatever it was, it had the most aromatic smell. For a second, Basil’s eyes glimmered, but then reality hit him. He would never be able to afford such a meal, and even if he could, they would never let a rat like himself inside (unless he was rich, of course).
Basil continued down the street. The lamplighters lit the street lamps and he realized the sun had almost set. How could it be dark already? Basil ran home as fast as he could. He couldn’t be late! The power turned off at seven and he had to bathe and prepare dinner before then. Basil rammed through the crowd, trying to get home. Suddenly, he tripped, falling flat on his face. He stood up, rubbing his sore nose as he noticed something glistening in the sooty gray snow. He reached his paw into the snow and pulled out a large silver coin, a one-pound sterling! With a coin worth so much, Basil could now afford his dream. He could not only pay for a luxury meal from Le Lieu de Fromage, but he could also purchase the most opulent tuxedo from the tailor!
Basil rushed home, ran to his bathtub, and filled it up with as much water as he could before the power cut out. He undressed and washed up, rubbing all the soot from his paws and whiskers. He dried off and ran out the door, grabbing his prized coin and dashing to the tailor. As the door opened, a little bell rang, alerting the clerk at the counter.
“Hello, sir. How may I help-” The clerk looked at Basil “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t have any fabric to spare.”
Basil approached the counter. “I’m ‘ere to buy a suit,” he spoke in his strong cockney accent, trying to suppress it to seem dignified. “What d’you got?”
The clerk smirked. “Are you sure you can afford it? I can show you our less expensive collection, but I cannot cut the price for you.”
Basil came up to a mannequin and felt the fabric of the suit. “This one looks aight. I’ll take it.” He looked up at the clerk who was pulling suits from a rack.
“The ones on display are half a pound. You couldn’t afford it,” the clerk said, eyeing Basil.
The rat flicked the coin towards the clerk. “I said I’ll take it,” he said.
The clerk apologized as he placed the coins into the suit pocket. He then began wrapping up the suit in parchment. He delicately removed the tag and then handed the suit to Basil.
“You got a fittin’ room?” Basil asked the clerk just as he was about to help the next client.
“Yes sir, just to the left,” the clerk replied. “Please don’t leave a mess,” he added before turning back to the mouse who had walked in.
Basil changed into his brand new suit. He glanced at himself through the looking glass. He licked his paw and slicked back his hair, admiring his dashing new self. He took a deep breath and walked out the door of the fitting room, then the store. The bells jingled again as the door slowly shut. As he walked to the restaurant, Basil practiced what he would say. He tried to speak just like the rich mice that ate at Le Lieu de Fromage, with crisp and clean English and vocabulary like out of a dictionary. If he spoke with a lowly accent as the rats did on the street, all the mice would turn their heads, and Basil would be the laughing stock at the restaurant. He stopped at the wide glass doors and mumbled his order to himself one last time before stepping inside.
“Hello monsieur, may I take your jacket?” asked the small mouse at the door.
Basil removed his jacket and tossed it at the maitre d’, just as he had seen the other mice do. He was led to a round table near the window. He looked out onto the street he had walked on every day. It looked different now, like a completely new city. It wasn’t the same London he had lived in, it was better. He was now part of a whole new world with the rich and respected.The smoke-filled sky now looked bluer, the gray ice on the streets looked softer, not like the ice he fell on just an hour ago. He was handed a large menu with a list of cheeses he couldn’t pronounce. But he continued to repeat his order in his head. He couldn’t mess it up, he just couldn’t.
A mouse wearing a black tailcoat with a golden handkerchief approached Basil. “Hello, sir. Welcome to Le Lieu de Fromage,” he uttered as he poured red wine into the crystal glass on the table, “Have you decided on your meal?”
Basil looked up. “Yes. I shall have your best cheese.”
“What a peculiar accent.” The waiter looked at Basil. “You know, you look like that rat who stares at the restaurant every evening.”
Basil looked down and the waiter walked away. He sipped his wine and watched the mice sitting at the other tables. They too looked different. They seemed closer, even though all that kept them apart before was a sheet of glass. After a long wait, the waiter brought out a platter of moldy cheese.
“Our finest cheese, sir, Formaggio con vermi. It is an Italian delicacy, cheese with maggots.” The waiter declared, refilling the wine glass.
The maggots crawled within the cheese. How could one be expected to eat this? It is absolutely repulsive! However, it was worth a try. He took a fork, punctured the soft cheese, and slowly brought it to his mouth, trying not to think about the bugs crawling within it. Finally, he took a bite, slowly chewed, and suddenly felt his stomach churn. That was the worst food he had ever eaten in his life. He tried his best to hold back his tears. He wasn’t tearing up because he felt the bugs crawling in his mouth, but because he was so heartbroken. He spent the majority of his life dreaming of this moment, hoping he can be like the mice he had seen inside every day, and finally when he got the time and the money to eat at Le Lieu de Fromage, it was awful! He could have spent this money on so many other things that would make a difference in his life, but instead, he came here, a place that served cheese with maggots.
This allegory is meant to represent the fact that not everything will be as good as we imagine. Our dreams and hopes are often formed focusing on only the positives of the event. For example, if you wish to go to space and be an astronaut, you might imagine seeing the Earth from far away or being in zero gravity. However, you don’t think about the fact that you’ll be away from your family, that it is extremely dangerous and one malfunction can kill you, or that it requires extreme amounts of training and exercise to prepare. Therefore, it’s easy for our dreams to be disappointing. We might only see the best in something, which is why it’s not how we expect. In addition, the story has subtle hints of rats vs. mice, showing the separate world between high-class and low-class people. The mice were rich and respected, and the rats were poor and looked down upon. This shows how many privileges the higher class people get, while those who really need the opportunities are tossed aside. We can see in the beginning of the story how Basil’s boss wouldn’t pay him again, and Basil couldn’t even stand up for himself in fear of losing his job to a mouse, just because the mouse is, well, a mouse.