Tuesday Morning…6:00 AM
“GET UP, GET UP, GET UP!”
Before I could open my eyes, I’m standing straight up in defense stance looking at my soon-to-be husband standing barely dressed at the head of our bed on the opposite side of mine. He’s just as defensive as I am, and all I could think was “Ok, I don’t smell smoke, I don’t hear anyone downstairs, where’s my knife? Where’s my phone? Where are my shoes? Radish! Pickles! Duck, duck, goose!”
I focus just in time to hear him say, “I just saw it!” and I instantly know what that means…the mouse found us!
Sounds dramatic, I know, but let me give you some background. See, when we moved in last Spring, the only resident critters we noticed were spiders…BIG ONES! little ones! wEiRd oNes! FAT ONES! skinny ones! Then out of nowhere, a few months later, one night I spotted a four-legged critter running from the stove to the dishwasher.
What the f- we’re not dirty people! We clean up after ourselves, what the heff do these critters think they’re going to get out of this apartment? We patched up all kinds of possible entry ways, but still it would make a cameo at least once a month. We tried to be nice and set up little “humane” traps that would allow us to just put it outside or something. We don’t like to hurt animals. We love the animals! We just love some at a distance. The same way you love a tiger at a distance, I like mice…AT-A-DISTANCE! Scared of a mouse? Me? Damn straight! Those little suckas jump! And scurry! And barely have bones, so they can get into places you cant! And they eat all the stuff you do! Let that sit for a minute.
Well, anyway, it turns out that the mouse (or mice) would take the snack out the trap and thusly flip us a mouse-sized bird, because none (Hear me?!) none of those traps worked!
So it’s a fight they want, eh? You dare challenge me to a duel, small sirs?! Challenge accepted!
So, we put down those little blue pellets. It’s supposed to make them insanely thirsty. They’ll run outside and die. No mess, no guilt. The mice laughed at these too.
Ok, fine, ya squeaky bastards! Now, we have to get medievel and put out sticky traps. That worked, but I guess we missed one, and he found his way upstairs. The haven. My haven!
So now, here we are, wired, half-naked and pumped with adrenaline trying to get rid of the furry intruder with a damn broom.
*ding, ding, ding* Round 1
My fiance grabbed the broom and told me to go into the next room, because he didn’t want me to get squeamish at what he was about to do. Well, I’m not one to stand around and watch carniage, so I scampered away into the adjacent meditation room. He opens the door and tells me to come back in and watch to see where it comes from while he runs downstairs to get something.
Greeeat, I receive the honor of getting the willies when I see this thing scamper out of his hiding spot!
Sure enough, it runs from behind the bed to the opposte side of the room…where I am! So I squeal and jump…
Him: “What?! You saw it?!”
Me: “Yeah, it’s behind the tv and stuff!”
So now, we have a plastic bag at the ready for it to run into if/when it runs out from behind the tv and out the bedroom door.
We can see it behind the tv, but it won’t budge. Then I hear:
“Ok, I’m going to startle him, get ready!”
I’m standing there twirling a mop stick in my hand, he has a broom in his hand. Then I hear…
“Here he comes!”
I start banging on the ground at absolutely nothing hoping to nail something.
Him: “What are you doing?! You scared it back!”
Me: “I don’t know, I panicked!”
So the process starts again. 10 minutes go by, then all of a sudden he jumps two feet in the air with that half yell, half shudder:
“Uuughgrblblegrble…Get it, get it!”
It comes running out into the hallway where I am. I’m going nuts pounding at the ground, letting out a grunting battlecry! I managed to hit it twice, but it ran under the door into the next room.
See, the problem with the guest bedroom is that we keep a ton of laundry in there. So now, we have a problem on our hands. Did he hide in the closet? In a shoe? In the clothes?! /O.O\
So now the man is poking around in there, trying to figure out where it went. Then he stops and goes:
“Wait, I see it!”
He moves a box and it comes running out again…toward me!
Again…”Uuughgrblblegrble…Get it, get it!”
I let out another battle cry and resume playing mop-mouse hockey!
I almost got it. I almost got it! The bastard ran into the bathroom. I look down at the ground, defeated, with the mop sponge now broken off. “Whatever, I’ll fix it later!” I thought.
Round 3 (All-Or-Nuthin’)
This is good, nowhere to hide in the bathroom except behind the toilet. But it has now magically found another place to hide. We waited another 10 minutes then it comes barrelling out of the bathroom…again toward me as I hear the familiar
So I leap and start banging at the floor on a warpath trying to get this thing. Next thing you know, I’m staring at the bouncing ass of a mouse, going down the stairs as I’m chasing it, trying to at least stun it with the mop.
This thing got to the bottom of the stairs and literally disappeared. I don’t know where the hell that thing went!
Mouse = 1
Humans = Womp! Womp! Waaaaahhhh!
The mouse is still at large (or at small, I don’t know). I just hope he knows we are not to be trifled with! We are officially on a warpath. (Waaahhhlalalalalalalalalalaaa!)
Whoever, wherever, whenever, whatever you are: have you ever had to deal with a critter situation like this?