The Rain that Hammered like Cooking Mice A Short Story by Anonymous Roger Pigeon looked at the ribbed rock in his hands and felt surprised. He walked over to the window and reflected on his sleepy surroundings. He had always loved snooty Philadelphia with its vacant, vivacious volcanoes. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel surprised. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Harriet Blacksmith. Harriet was a spiteful wally with vast elbows and curvy thighs.