A few nights ago, the husband and I actually got to watch a movie. The girls went to bed at normal hours, and because we were so thrilled to have time to ourselves, we kicked the My Little Ponies, Puss-in-Boots, and Mulan DVD off the couch, sat on the same couch, and started "Alien Versus Predator." He will never watch a romantic movie. In fact, when the Predator made good with the human, I teared up and thought that surely, this was the feel-good movie of the year.
Anyways...we're watching slimy little alien babies rip out of peoples' chests, and all of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye, I see something haul-ass across the tile. Because I was watching a "jump-out-and-scare-you" movie, I second-guessed myself, but I still sat up straight and focused on the area where I saw it. Not ten seconds later, I see it again. It was big people. BIG. Not cat big, but squirrel big. I freaked out. The movie was paused, the lights were turned on, and my brave husband went looking for the beast.
After moving the entertainment center, and vacuuming the dust bunnies, he found the culprit:
"It's a lizard."
"A lizard? How do you know?"
"I can see its tail. See? Right there, next to the dvd player. It's underneath."
"Are you sure that's a lizard tail?"
"Yeah." (looking closer)"Um...well..." (shining the flashlight under the dvd player)
"Well?"
"You are NOT going to believe this. It's a mouse. A little brown mouse."
COMMENCE WITH FREAK OUT.
A mouse was in my house! A MOUSE IN MY HOUSE!! Do you understand?! A. MOUSE. A filthy, disease-carrying, plague-causing, nasty little vermin. In my house. Where my babies roll on the floor. So, I did what any self-respecting woman would do. I got my husband a wooden spoon so he could beat the fuck out of that little thing.
The first contestant of "Get the Mouse Out of My House," was Scott. His brilliant idea was to tape a trash bag opening to the front of the entertainment center, then walk around back, and poke the mouse out with the spoon--where as the mouse would dutifully run into the gleaming-white trashbag, we could tie it off, and throw him in the trash. I won't even go into the details of WHY this won't work, but I'll quickly mention that it went horribly wrong, in that Scott ended up screaming like a little girl, and the mouse ended up under the entertainment center. But I digress.
The second contestant was the cat. I mean, isn't that her job? It's about time that lazy bitch did something to earn her keep around here. We found her lounging in the chair, so Scott picked her up, threw her behind the entertainment center, and we silently waited for her to coax out the mouse, kill it, and present us with its bloodied corpse. The cat sniffed around the dvd electric cords, turned around, and ran back to the chair. That fucker's not eating for a week. "Mouse catcher" my ass.
The best was saved for last--me. I needed a board that was the height of the under-opening of the entertainment center, and a box--we had both. I put the board underneath (it was a perfect fit), and slowly slid the board over, until the mouse was trapped in a "hallway" of sorts, with an open box at the end. Scott then shoved a magazine under the frontside, scaring the little critter into the open box. Voila! Trapped mouse. Scott took over from there.
We decided to keep the varmint until the next day, so we could show the girls--therefore, they would be able to share with all the kids at the sitter's, and the kids' parents how we had a mouse in the house. So all the parents would think we live in some back-woods, single-wide trailer with a semi-buried tractor in the front and a #3 NASCAR flag flying. You know, because we do.
Anyways, Scott is out in the garage with the box-o-mouse, and I'm inside getting the critter some water. I walk out just in time to hear him say, "Oh Shit!!" and see a flying mouse-body leap from the box and go scurrying under the toolbench.
I don't know what else to say, except, "Throw a 'possum on that thar grill, and turn on the Willie Nelson," because we've got a mouse in the house!!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment