Fuck Mice

I've spent most of the weekend and today completely exhausted, both mentally and physically, because of a quick series of events on Saturday morning.

Basically, I was trying to get back to sleep watching tv and eating chocolate (pretty girly i know), when a mouse ran right past my head on a big pile of books next to my bed. I completly shat myself and jumped out the bed. I paced around the room completely clueless what to do next. I wanted to look underneath things to check if the mouse was gone, but at the same time REALLY didn't want to see a mouse again.

Eventually i checked the mouse traps in the room (we have a few in the kitchen from time to time), and noticed a dead mouse lying next to a sprung trap (not in the trap itself). This scared me even more, especially as I REALLY didn't want to touch it. So anyways, while I was pacing around the room I noticed a squeaking noise that just wouldn't quit. Thinking it was the floorboards I tried testing which one was giving out the annoying noise. Except, in the back of my mind, I knew this was a huge charade and that really there was a mouse somewhere in my room and again, it was something i did not want to see or touch.

I couldn't take it anymore and so went to the pub to find my flatmates, hoping that if i showed them how close to tears I was they would help me out and deal with the carnage. Fortunatley they did. First off, one of them came in to see the dead mouse. It was lying in a different position to the last time i saw it but i didn't make a big deal of it. He soon heard the loud squeaking noise and soon we were both talking about anything just to take our mind off the grim situation we were getting into....

He's a better man than me, so as i pulled back my cupbaord (the source of the noise), he had a look and saw the glue trap i'd set up about 8 months earlier and saw the agonized mouse screaming its head off. Taking a dust pan to it he was pretty quick to throw it out the window (sorry mousey, but if i'm too much of a fanny to be int he same room as you, I'm definietly too much of a fanny to stamp on your head).

The other mouse was just too gruesome to touch, lying as it was, totally by itself, quite far away from any implement with which to pick it up. As luck would have it I live with some real men and my other flatmate picked this one up with his hands (covered by a plastic bag). However, he soon stomped out the room pretty quickly with a look that said "you can fuck off if you think I'm picking that up..." His mouth said largely the same thing - "it's not dead". I really lost my shit and ran into another room, freaking out that the mouse was now dying and lost in my room. I had to beg to him to get rid of the fucker.

Aremed with the dustpan and brush he marched back in, scooped it up and threw the whole lot out the window. Again, sorry Mouse, and I know that as i write this you are probably still lying outside my window dying a slow and horrible death, but i really don't give a fuck.

As well as realising that I'm a complete faggot when it comes to rodents, and that I can't sleep for more than 45 minutes at a stretch for 3 days after seeing a mouse in my room, I also realised that I would not be any good at my ideal profession of a War Photographer, as i failed to take any gorey details of this whole incident. The picture at the top of the page is from another mouse i caught in my room earlier this year. I will post picture below when my internet connection is better of the blood that the mouse who sprung the trap but was still alive left behind. (I have tried scrubbing the stain to get it out but these last drops are just too stubborn. Maybe 'Soul' is just one of those things that doesn't come out, like Red Wine).