EEEEk!!!!

I saw it! It was little and black. It scurried across the floor in the blink of an eye. I was sitting on the couch in the living room when I saw it. My heart started pounding, "did I really see it? Was it just my imagination, just the lighting?" I would hear a sound..."was that a squeak?" I ran to the back of the house to find a trap, the whole time watching my back. Like it's going to jump out at me and take revenge for his cousin Rufus or his aunt Rosie. (Don't ask me where I got the names, they just sounded like mice names).

As I rummaged through several boxes I started to laugh at myself. I'm afraid of something smaller than the palm of my hand. Or am I afraid of what it represents? I remember the episode of Friends (underline) when Ross goes to his girlfriend's apartment, which is completely nasty. Food everywhere, stuff everywhere, no where to make-out. I'm thinking, "Is my house like that? Dirty enough for a mouse. I know there are cherios stuck on the floor and some crumbs under the table but..." Phew, I find the trap, stick some peanut butter on it. I make it snap. My heart saddens for the poor creature that chose my house this night. I start to think about all the sweet mouse movies like Stuart Little (underline) and The Rescuers (underline-pitiful, I know). Those were sweet mice that did a lot of good.

Oh well, my mercy runs short when it comes to finding droppings in my pantry and sticky urine on my silverware (I'm not joking). Sorry little mouse. You are a marvelous creation of the Father, but not fit for my house. I wish you had stayed outside and I hope you stop taunting me with little squeaks and moans from behind the stove. I will wait for the SNAP!, I will squirm and feel sad for a moment, then I will get Marshall to take you outside to join the "others."