My Battle Against the Mice Part II

I don’t know if I ever mentioned the house I lived in while I was in college. It was a wonderful little brick house, with hard wood floors and a strong roof that kept up shelter and safe. That being said, it was very dilapidated. Not necessarily in a bad way, it was just obviously old and very run down. We liked to use the phrase, “well loved”. Like you would of a child’s toy that was ratty, missing pieces and probably had never been washed. Regardless, I loved that house. But I do remember one time that I really hated it.

I was sitting on my bed, reading when I say something grey in the corner of my eye at my door. I need glasses to see far away so it was just a shape at first. I actually thought it was a leaf that had maybe been stuck on someone’s shoe and had blown in with the closing of the door, not to be too specific. Then that leaf squeaked, scurried into my room and ran into my closet. It was a freaking mouse. You see, I lived on the ground floor so, it wasn’t unusual for me to have critters once in a while, but this was a whole new playing field. I ran up to my roommates rooms and knocked on everyone’s doors all at once. They came out looking sleepy, it was around midnight on a Tuesday in their defense. “There is a mouse in my room!” I screamed, even though they were only a few inches away from me. They looked at each other then each turned around and retreated back to their rooms. When I protested I was just told, “There’s nothing you can do about it now. Try and get some sleep and we can figure it out in the morning.” After making some comments about needing better friends,  I grumpily made my way back stairs where I crouched on the sofa and stared at the entrance to my room. I texted everyone I knew who lived close by and these were just a few of the responses I got.

Person 1: “There’s a mouse in my room! Help!” “Where is it?!” “In my closet!” “It’s a gay mouse?”

Person 2: “Do you have mouse poison or traps or anything like that?” “No. Why do you ask?”

Person 3: “There is a mouse in my room! What should I do?” “Don’t let it get into your wall. We had a mouse get in our walls, die in there and it smelled horrible.”

Now it was obviously needed new friends in general. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep at all that night and they next morning my roommates and I looked everywhere in my room and couldn’t find it. We bought poison and put them all over the house, but nothing. I started to forget about it when one night right before Thanksgiving break I saw the shape at my door again. It tried to run in so I threw my book at it and scurried off and disappeared before I could track it down again. I told my roommates about the incident and instead of creating a search party, they started to question me. I was the only one who had seen the mouse and it always comes to my room. Every time we looked it was on where to be found. There had been a lot of test this past week and I hadn’t been getting a lot of sleep. Was I imagining the mouse? No! No. no. no…. Maybe? I didn’t want to give up, but they did have a point.

A few days passed by and they all forgot about the mouse. Weeks passed by and eventually, even I forgot about it. Until one faithful morning. I was sitting at our couch, watching the news (or cartoons…) eating toast when I heard one of my roommates make her way down the stairs. “Good morning.” Silence. “Morning?” “….is that a dead mouse at the bottom of our stairs?” Good news, I wasn’t delusional. Bad news….There was a dead mouse at the bottom of our stairs

Putting the Fuse in Confused,

C

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