The following is a true story
I have a mouse trapped beneath a bowl on my bar.I was lying down in the bedroom, watching Twins on AMC, and came in here to get a cigarette. When I turned on the lights, I heard a rustling on the bar. Having seen a few meeses lately, I moved some stuff around, but saw nothing.
Then, on a whim, I peered into the bag of doughnuts that's been setting there for maybe a week now. And saw a tail. No moose, mind you -- just a bunch of chocolate doughnuts. And one had a tail.
See, it's one of those clear, quart bags, with some chocolate doughnuts my mom gave me. Those of the Hostess variety. The little Donettes kind. And the little mouse is about the size of one of them.
And so are his little eyes.
So I picked up a thingamabob and poked the thing, ever so gently, and it shot to the corner of the bag -- but was trapped! It scurried for a second, then stopped.
Now, what the hell am I gonna do with a mouse, in a sack of doughnuts, on my bar? I ain't killing a mouse on my bar. In fact, I'm not much for killing meese, anyway. I can't imagine the horror of being quashed to death -- especially not if it didn't take the first time and I had to repeatedly stomp on it, over and over and again! Feeling sharp, little bones crack beneath the weight of my vicious onslaught, poking through its little Bermuda shorts and yellow, hand-knitted sweatervest, lightly stabbing me in my foot!
What an awful death! That's why I can't stand those sticky pads: they get stuck to them and slowly die of thirst and starvation. Poison is bad, too (for the same reasons). I'm not sure one can build a better mousetrap, honestly.
But I can't just put him out -- he'll come right back in! And putting him in the trashcan outside is cruel. Besides, if I pick up the bag, he'll go crazy! He'll shred the thin plastic, run up my arm, chew through my eyeball, and burrow deep into the soft, mushy matter what is my brain!
So, I'm thinking of putting some headphones on the bowl, as though it were a really big head, and playing Malevolent Creation really loud so it will go into cardiac arrest or something.
IM Friend: THAT's HORRIBLE
IM Friend: LET HIM GO!
IM Friend: LET HIM GO!
IM Friend: LET HIM GO OUTSIDE!
IM Friend: LET HIM GO FREE!
IM Friend: MOUSE KILLER!
ManoDogs: I'm not touching it!
IM Friend: Don't touch him!
ManoDogs: They have diseases and fangs and talons.
IM Friend: Lift the damn bag and bowl and let him GO.
ManoDogs: And how do you suggest I accomplish this, little Miss PETA?
IM Friend: They do not have fangs and talons.
IM Friend: It's a MOUSE for God sakes.
...
ManoDogs: Big, hairy fangs.
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IM Friend: Oh, please
ManoDogs: And long, sharp talons.
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ManoDogs: I heard they breathe fire.
IM Friend: Just slide a piece of cardboard under the bowl
IM Friend: Walk over to the door
IM Friend: and LET HIM GO FREE
ManoDogs: This bowl is huge! It is a big mouse. You should see the size of its sweatervest!
IM Friend: It doesn't matter.
ManoDogs: No! It will come right back inside.
IM Friend: IT WILL NOT.
IM Friend: Use a paper bag.
IM Friend: SLIDE IT UNDER
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IM Friend: JUST LET HIM GO!
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ManoDogs: Who has paper bags anymore?
IM Friend: Don't YOU?
ManoDogs: Who the hell makes paper bags?
IM Friend: Grocery stores.
IM Friend: You can ask for them
ManoDogs: If you're a dirty hippy.
IM Friend: If you don't have one..then use a book
ManoDogs: I haven't seen a paper bag since I was a kid.
IM Friend: Or a magazine
ManoDogs: I'M NOT GONNA READ HIM A BOOK!
IM Friend: YOU ARE A MOUSE KILLER!
ManoDogs: What am I running here, a library?
IM Friend: LET HIM GO!
IM Friend: LET HIM GO!
IM Friend: LET MY PEOPLE GO!
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IM Friend: YOU'RE SUFFOCATING HIM!
ManoDogs: He's still alive. He's scratching my bowl.
IM Friend: You would too!
ManoDogs: He's gonna pay for that bowl if he effs it up. He better have a job, if he's gonna treat other folks' stuff like that!
IM Friend: HE's a MOUSE.
IM Friend: CUT HIM SOME SLACK
ManoDogs: What am I running here, a restaurant?
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ManoDogs: Tell you what, you come get this mouse and do with it whatever you want. The two of you can make a dirty, little hippy commune with your paper bags and shit.
ManoDogs: But I don't know what you're gonna eat or READ, since none of you have JOBS!
ManoDogs: Cuz THIS gravy train is over!
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ManoDogs: You owe me for the doughnut your boyfriend ate.