It’s 1:00 AM, and I’m standing on my table- watching a small brown mouse scurry across my living room floor. I am, shall we say, not a pretty sight. Somewhere along the way, I had a flashback to the time when I was nine years old, and a mouse ran up my dad’s pants leg. He screamed like a girl. As a pre-emptive measure, I have rolled my pants up to my knees. I am also donning a pair of high heels. I’m not sure why, but I think it’s because I feel like the added two inches can only be a good thing. Also, I think that sneakers with all their ridges will leave more dirt on my coffee table. This might not be true, but it’s what I think…

Alright, I just re-read the last paragraph and realized that I sound like a bit of a whimp. But let me assure you, this was no cute, little country mouse. This was a big city, street smart mouse; and I’m not sure but it might have been under the influence of m a r i j u a n a. Enough said..

1:30 AM- I try bribing the mouse. He is not at all receptive to my offers.

1:40 AM- I try threatening the mouse with my non-existent cat.

1:55 AM- In lieu of an actual cat, I try stalking the mouse myself. I suddenly have the very sobering realization that cats catch mice in their mouths.

2:00 AM- I try shooing the mouse with a broom.

3:00 AM- I start thinking about using the broom to whack the mouse over the head.

4:00 AM- I call a nearby church- arguing that the mouse should be removed from the list of God’s Creatures. Now, I don’t feel half bad about trying to kill it…

5:00 AM- I consider going to a local bar and picking up a man to kill the mouse.

5:15 AM- I reject that idea- the man may turn out to be scarier than the mouse.

6:00 AM- I finally collapse on my bed. Exhausted. Frustrated. And without a mouse to show for it.

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7:50 AM- I head for the hardware store. A small sparrow gives me a near coronary.

8:00 AM- I’m at the hardware store looking at mouse traps. Poison. Glue. Poison. Glue. Oh, now here’s a great idea- the glue trap. I end up with a mouse glued to a piece of cardboard. What the hell am I going to do with that? Put it on my mantelpiece?? Besides, I hear that sometimes, the mouse will rip its legs off- trying to get off the glue trap. Then, I’ll just have a legless mouse scampering, or rather dragging, itself across my floor. Not a desirable state of affairs.

What kind of sadist comes up with this stuff? Necks breaking. Feet getting stuck. Ghastly death by poison.

Let’s at least let the little guy go out with some dignity.

How about letting him crash in a whirlwind of chaos while attempting to jump the staircase in a little Barbie doll car? (His ninth such stunt I might add)

Or perhaps he could receive a fatal injury while trying to outrace the cat on his BMX bike?

None of this mercy killing stuff…

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So yeah, I bet you’re wondering what I ended up doing.

Well, let’s just say that right now, I’m sitting on my table…