Two nights ago I was faced with a faceless enemy. I was up until past five in the morning with a case of indigestion; a rare condition for me. And that is when it happened. Something in my bedroom moved… it wasn’t me.
Pray tell, what horror lurks yonder? Alas, this event was foretold when, upon entering my bathroom not two days prior, I observed the tell-tale evidence; what to the untrained eye would appear to be small grains of burned rice on the toilet… mouse droppings.
I subsequently purchased and placed mouse traps and caught… nothing.
Convinced my diagnosis was incorrect I placed the little black plastic jaws of death away in a drawer. As the day wore on I even laughed at myself for entertaining the idea that a mouse would climb all the way up to the fifth floor of an apartment building and run along to the last bathroom in the last apartment to… use the toilet?
Now I had audio evidence. This noise clearly came from my room, not the upstairs neighbor who often has me convinced that we live underneath the set of Bowling for Dollars. So, at around five-thirty in the morning, after signing off Face Book where my friend Lisa had advised me to use peanut butter as bait, I set my traps between some storage boxes and a bookshelf. Not only is that where the noise came from, but I found that familiar style of Rice-a-Roni on the lowest shelf. I did not have the blind ambition to go the length of the apartment at that hour to get peanut butter. I’m a big fan of James Bond, so I used the next best high tech bait I could find without leaving my room… peanuts.
Now, I’m a realist and a pragmatist. I didn’t expect to catch anything that night because:
A. The night was almost over.
B. Mice are usually nocturnal.
C. I was too tired and sick to worry about it.
D. I still wasn’t entirely convinced of the existence of high-altitude, toilet-trained mice.
Well, the next night passed and looking down from above the boxes I could see that neither of the traps had been sprung. This afternoon I finally slid the boxes away and carefully lifted each trap to find… no peanut!
These traps spring just by breathing on them. You have to place them as if they’re loaded with nitroglycerine. How did the mouse steal the peanut not just once, but twice?! What kind of Hitchcock-inspired horror is this? So now I’m dealing with a high altitude, toilet-trained, ghost mouse with… Special Forces training?
Tonight I will use, with Lisa’s words haunting me… peanut butter!
So if you all stop hearing from me I want you to know that whatever happened to me, no matter how much it looks like an accident, it was the mouse that got...
Pray tell, what horror lurks yonder? Alas, this event was foretold when, upon entering my bathroom not two days prior, I observed the tell-tale evidence; what to the untrained eye would appear to be small grains of burned rice on the toilet… mouse droppings.
I subsequently purchased and placed mouse traps and caught… nothing.
Convinced my diagnosis was incorrect I placed the little black plastic jaws of death away in a drawer. As the day wore on I even laughed at myself for entertaining the idea that a mouse would climb all the way up to the fifth floor of an apartment building and run along to the last bathroom in the last apartment to… use the toilet?
Now I had audio evidence. This noise clearly came from my room, not the upstairs neighbor who often has me convinced that we live underneath the set of Bowling for Dollars. So, at around five-thirty in the morning, after signing off Face Book where my friend Lisa had advised me to use peanut butter as bait, I set my traps between some storage boxes and a bookshelf. Not only is that where the noise came from, but I found that familiar style of Rice-a-Roni on the lowest shelf. I did not have the blind ambition to go the length of the apartment at that hour to get peanut butter. I’m a big fan of James Bond, so I used the next best high tech bait I could find without leaving my room… peanuts.
Now, I’m a realist and a pragmatist. I didn’t expect to catch anything that night because:
A. The night was almost over.
B. Mice are usually nocturnal.
C. I was too tired and sick to worry about it.
D. I still wasn’t entirely convinced of the existence of high-altitude, toilet-trained mice.
Well, the next night passed and looking down from above the boxes I could see that neither of the traps had been sprung. This afternoon I finally slid the boxes away and carefully lifted each trap to find… no peanut!
These traps spring just by breathing on them. You have to place them as if they’re loaded with nitroglycerine. How did the mouse steal the peanut not just once, but twice?! What kind of Hitchcock-inspired horror is this? So now I’m dealing with a high altitude, toilet-trained, ghost mouse with… Special Forces training?
Tonight I will use, with Lisa’s words haunting me… peanut butter!
So if you all stop hearing from me I want you to know that whatever happened to me, no matter how much it looks like an accident, it was the mouse that got...
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