For the past several days, every time one of us opens the door leading to the basement, a little brown mouse scurries down from the top step, cuts right into the bathroom, and then disappears under the door into the garage. I usually chase him with whatever’s in my hand (trying to trap him with a glass or swat him with a stack of clients’ medical records), but the little brown bastard is too agile to even come close.
Yesterday, Pretty Bride decided that, since it was the one night of the week we’d both be home, it was time to take the fight to the mice. We pulled the cars out of the garage and started looking for their home, which appeared to be near a giant bag of grass seed with a corner nibbled open. Piles and piles of grass seed in the corner of the garage, mixed with stacks of mouse turds (think grains of rice, colored black).
Then I pulled back the insulation from the wall and nearly vomited at the smell: mouse urine, mouse birthing secretions, mouse fornication residue, more mouse turds.
A fat one scurried up the wall as I was vacuuming up the turds and grass seed; I aimed the nozzle at it and frantically tried to suck its well-girthed body into the flexible chord. Fail. He did a u-turn and bolted back to the concrete before sliding under the door to the bathroom.
We put glue traps along all four walls of the garage, catching another baby within 5 minutes of putting them out. Stupid baby.
I walked over to it and watched it squirm and squeak as it wrestled against the adhesive gripping its little bastard mouse feet and its little bastard mouse side.
Me: Does that feel good, little vermin?
Me: How do you think it feels to be trapped in an unsellable house full of you and your little fucker mouse friends, huh?
Me: I got glue traps all over this garage. I’m gonna catch your momma, your papa, and all your little mouse siblings. All y’all are going to spend the rest of your sorry, short lives on trays of glue in this hot ass garage. Thirsty. Hungry. And pissing all over yourself. You excited about the next few days?
This morning, I barreled downstairs to check out all the traps.
Just the baby from last night, lying motionless on its side in the trap next to my car. I trudged back upstairs to get ready for work.
I was about 2 miles down the road when my phone rang.
Pretty Bride: Did you look at the traps? I’m afraid to look.
Me: Yeah. Nothing but the baby from last night.
PB: Do you think they’re laughing at you from their new mouse home? I bet they are.
Me: I don’t know… let me know next time you drive your Odyssey.