He was standing there on two feet, with a top hat, suit with tails, monocle, and cane, the very height of 1880's nightclub fashion. He pulled out a tiny kerchief, put it to his mouth, cleared his little mouse throat, put it away (with a quiet squeaky "excuse me") and then looked up at me.
The mouse then spoke, "On October 4, 2004, SpaceShipOne won with Ansari X Prize for making two successful trips into space. More properly, the men and women of Scaled Composites, including but not especially the pilot and program manager Brian Binnie, won the prize."
"What?" I said groggily. "Are you a talking mouse?"
The mouse ignored my question and continued - it seemed a little like he was reading from a memorized speech.
"The fact that this happened is amazing. But the best part is what this means for this morning, and tomorrow morning, and so on. The X Prize has still been won. Every day, from now on, ever, that wonderfulness, joy and triumph is still there."
"Am I being woken up by a talking mouse in a little tuxedo?" I said, blinking. "I was asleep."
The mouse sighed.
Then it scurried away into the wall or something.