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"Go forth my minions, bring
unto me meat that I might feed."
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Well played MurderMouse, well played. This morning the trap I'd set (both humane and rented) was unsprung and empty...almost empty that is. In his campaign of torment, my unwelcome guest has enlisted the aid of my old nemeses, the ants. I found the bait engulfed by the Ant Queen's thralls who, unhindered by the wire frame and too light to spring the door mechanism passed freely in to and out of the trap carrying fifty times their own weight in booty back to the
Underdark from whence they came. There, in the everlasting night between drywall and insulation, they exchange meat for the protection of the great and terrible MurderMouse Mansbane, Lord of The Basement Apartment, Defiler of the Cupboard and Scourge of Surface Realm. These are black days indeed.
I find myself faced with the very real possibility that there may be no defense against this unholy alliance of rodent and insect. It's sort of like the time
Lore teamed up with the Borg, but with less spandex. Between the rodent's cunning and the ant's sheer numbers I may simply be overmatched. Guess it's time to find a new apartment.
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Man, I've taught you nothing. You need to bait the trap with something valuable. Put out some crap you really don't want the mouse to eat. Something you really, really like. Your last freeze dried slice of NY pizza or the Star Wars Holiday Special VHS or something. Also, did you attach a "Not a trap" sign to the side of the trap? If "Fievel Goes West" taught us anything, it's that mice can read.
ReplyDeleteAlso, true story, my captcha for that last comment was "Haran".
ReplyDelete