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Mousy, the novel.

I want to write a novel populated entirely by mousy people.

Because I just watched this documentary, and was laughing because I realized everybody in this dramatic story was mousy.

The killer was mousy. And he was a bigamist. A mousy bigamist. All his wives were mousy. The detectives who hunted him down and the district attorneys who prosecuted him were mousy. All his friends were mousy. All his ex-friends were mousy. The interviewers for this true crime documentary were mousy.

Everybody talked to each other in mousy tones.

Everybody talked about how horrible his crimes were in a mousy manner.

Their vengeance was mousy.

Retribution was mousy.

He's probably sitting in a mousy prison with mousy fellow inmates eating a mousy lunch right now watching this mousy program about him on a mousy little television set.

That would be a cute idea for a network: Mousy TV.

You'd try to find the blandest programming you could find.

And even the commercials would have to tone it down.

No zest or excitement.

Just wall to wall mousiness.