|Germs? Nah, you just made God angry.|
Way to go kid.
There's a mouse in my apartment. In our modern age of computers and Ladies Gaga, I find myself sharing my living space with a common disease carrying rodent. What is this, medieval France? I'll tell you, it's not. Although that would be kind of rad. If for no other reason than I could invent penicillin or something and make a fortune selling it to plague victims. Losers...
|Be kind to animals or this thing eats you,|
or something. I don't know how it works.
Anyway, back to the mouse. I spotted it late last night and spent an hour chasing it around in the vain hope that I could catch it. I couldn't. I know what you're thinking: "Why not just kill it?" I'm right aren't I? That's what you are thinking right now. Wow, what kind of person are you? Is murder your answer for everything? Look, I don't like killing things just on the off chance that Buddism, Hinduism and Shirley MacLaine are on to something. Scoff all you like, but if you end up as a silverfish in the next life, you're going to wish you lived in my house. So yeah, I opt for a catch and release program. I've successfully evicted dozens of spiders, mosquitos and even two bats.
That's right, two bats. The last one I actually grabbed with my hand while it was sleeping and tossed it outside. That's right, I'm the goddamned Batman.
|What I'm up against.|
Why then, have I been foiled by this flightless flying rat? The best I could manage was to corner it in my bedroom and close the door. That's right: I gave the mouse my room and slept on the couch. Like it was a house guest. But in my defense, this is no ordinary mouse (yes it is). It moves with ridiculous speed and is possibly equipped with a cloaking device. I have given it a name and it is MurderMouse.®
|Also, I don't have a forklift suit. |
So much for plan B.
|Ever played this?|
It might be kinder to simply
poison the mouse...
I am left with but one option: a mouse trap. Don't worry friends of animals, I rented a humane (or mousane?) one from the pet store down the street (it's apparently a thing you can do), and stocked it with roast beef (sorry afore mentioned friends of animals). According to the girl behind the counter, mice don't actually like cheese. Cartoons, in this respect, have lied to us all. Anyway, I'll have more on this story as it develops...assuming I win. If the mouse wins, I can only hope it will continue posting updates.
p.s. To my roommate Maura, who is conveniently out of town as this epic battle of wills goes down: Hey, we've got a mouse!