Sorry about not posting for a while, but I had to work a week long shift to allow a co-worker to spend time with his mom before she returns to the old country; no major adventures to report anyway, so no big.
Anyway, for the past few days I noticed a pungent stench within my tiny abode, namely the scent of the enemy gone tits ups. You guessed it, another mouse went on to meet its maker and left the mini-stink bomb that was itself as a final “fuck you.” The problem was finding the tiny corpse in my notoriously cluttered flat and disposing of it ASAP.
As well as I could I tore my place apart, searching out the usual trap-laden areas and came up with bubkes. It went on like that for days; pulling out my stove, book cases and refrigerator to no avail, burning incensce all the while and tearing out sizable chunks of my Jim Kelly tribute ‘fro in frustration. Then, tonight, just rummaging around under my horribly crowded sink cabinet, I found Mickey Mort, half-cannibalized by one of his brethren, lying on his side like some rodential odelisque.
Rather than be overjoyed by the discovery I was rather confused since no traps were laid under the sink; that space was a labyrinth of cleaning solution bottles, plastic shopping bags for garbage or recycling uses and assorted junk, so I figured that a trap would be wasted there since it would be a bit of an obstacle course even for one of my diminutive foes. Lesson learned: do not underestimate the very tiny. Hell, I should’ve know that after all the stories I’ve read or seen about Ray Palmer, Hank Pym, Salu Digby, the crew of the Proteus (they traveled through a dude's venous system and destroyed a tumor in his brain!), and even the Borrowers, for fuck’s sake… But I wouldn't want to kill any of them!
I removed the critter and searched for clues that would explain the site of death, finally cleaning the place out in the process, and found an unexpected answer. About two months ago I grew ever more irritated at the building’s annual rodent infestation and went to the store for my usual round of traps. I purchased a box of what I thought were Tomcat brand glue traps — yeah, yeah, I know you activists out there are gonna bitch, but get it through your heads: I love animals, but on the subject of vermin infesting my residence I AM NOT ON YOUR SIDE, so deal with it. And besides, every single one of you has cats, so I really do not want to hear about it — but what I purchased turned out to be those poison pebbles that you can just spread around and I have a problem with poisons since you never know where they can turn up, so I just chucked the unopened box under the sink and forgot about it. Why I didn’t just toss it into the trash is beyond me…
Well, apparently the claims on the box proved true and the little sumbitch couldn’t resist chewing through the box for the tasty-yet-lethal munchies within, and consequently paid with his life. And in doing so, shared the poison with his family who had clearly feasted upon his mortal remains. I have not heard any of the frequent nighttime skitterings, so I would guess that the other mouse/mice have also joined the Choir Invisible.
Anyway, thank you Tomcat brand. Please send me a promotional t-shirt and i will proudly wear the motherfucker!