Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Hey Mickey you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind! Hey Mickey!



About 10 days ago I noticed a mouse in my kitchen right before I left to go out of town for the weekend. I saw the mouse thought "what the fuck?" and instead of being completely grossed out was more pissed that I'd have a mouse running around in my apartment for three days - as I was literally in the act of walking out my door. As I sat there thinking what to do my friend called me to say my ride was waiting out front. Of course at the exact moment I was telling my friend about the mouse he scurried across my kitchen floor. Elicting the girliest, highest-pitched, shriek that has ever come from my person. All over the world 5 year old little girls were raising there eyebrows and laughing at my fraidy-catness over a little mouse. My friend on the phone laughed at me, along with my other friend he was in the car with, again, the scream was THAT loud.

So, I decided, "fuck it," and locked up and left town for three days with a little mouse running around my apartment.

After returning from the long weekend I came home expecting a mess of mice nests and babies, and shit everywhere. But there was nothing. Not a god-damn thing. I thought, "well, maybe since there's no food in my apartment, little mickey has moved on to one of my neighbors more fruitful apartments." Oh, btw, by this point I had named the mouse Mickey. Ingenious, yeah? I figure if he's gone, I don't need to fuck around with getting poisons or traps or anything. Thank God.

So I get back on with my life, and after 4 days no Mickey sightings. Ahhhh, but on the 5th day. There's that little fucker scurrying across my floor again. Only now, if it's Mickey, and I'm pretty sure it was, he's gotten bigger. The fucker has grown. Well I do what any slacker would do after waiting a week, I bought two mouse traps. Walgreen's doesn't sell the glue ones, so I got some variation of the standard ole' mouse trap, but done up in plastic. It said right on the box that the plastic would keep the blood and mouse-gore down, which honestly I'm all for.

I strategically placed the mouse traps in two of the places I had seen the little (now big) fucker scurrying about. I also put peanut butter on the traps, which was an old wives tale I thought only I knew about, but apparently everyone knows, cause everyone time I tell someone and feel smarmy, etc... they just look at me like I'm an idiot. "Of COURSE you use peanut butter." So, I set the traps and smiled, thinking ".....hahahah, anyday now, fuckers!"

So

Day 1, no action
Day 2, no action
Day 3, no action
Day 4, action! I hear the snapping of the trap. "YES! I got that fucker" Then the weirdest thing happened. I felt bad. I just kind of sat there, and thought "I'm going to puke my fucking guts out if there's some convulsing half dead mouse in the jaws of that trap." After waiting about 10 minutes, and realizing what a pussy I'm being, I walked over and guess what, no Mickey. Well I just chalk that up to the trap being wound so tight, reset the damn thing, and go back to drinking on my couch.
Day 5 no action
Day 6 action! This time I'm working in my home office and hear the SNAP of the trap. "YES!" I think. I've got him now! That was definately a kill. Well, I go through the same 10 minutes of hemming and hawwing over checking the trap, and once I get the balls to check it out, guess what again, no fucking Mickey.

Well that's were I am today. Apparently, this little fucker is now out-smarting my traps. My traps, my awesome peanut-butter-goodness baited traps are apparently not worth a shit. Now I'm starting to get a little freaked, cause I think I saw on CSI once that the dust from Mouse shit in the walls of your house can kill you, and furthermore, I'm worrying about the mouse situation this winter. I mean, it can only be worse, right?

Being at the end of my rope, I'm actually thinking about doing one of the most despicable and awful things I have ever imagined myself doing. Getting a cat. I HATE cats. I mean, i fucking DESPISE cats. If I become a cat person, please kill me. If I ever say, "Look! Isn't Brownie the CUTEST thing you have ever seen!" Just kill me. Hopefully after the cat has killed Mickey though. Either way, I can imagine some awesome Itchy and Scratchy-esque battles taking place in my kitchen. Oh crap, I just realized though, doesn't the mouse always win?

1 comment:

Jessie's Girl said...

That was brilliant! Thanks for the laughs--my hangover is almost gone.