Rats

Sistatime! has a mouse in her apartment and, after setting up her camera to videotape it's comings and goings, has decided to get an old-fashioned snap-trap and kill the fucker tomorrow. Of course, this means GUESS WHO will hafta go dispose of the twitching mousey body should it actually happen? She's worried about the fucker overtaking her apartment, which of course made me think of Mr. Fantastic:

i heard him before i saw him and then i saw him scurry under the refrigerator. i chased him around the kitchen and tried to lure him into an overturned trash bin which of course proved comically futile. the kids were with me that night and were sound asleep; i cringed at the thought of him bare-assing around the corner and finding refuge in the bottom bunk, nestling deep into the knotty plume of my daughters hair. i kept at it until i trapped him under the sink. i ducttaped everywhere that could be ducttaped and went to bed to the sound of working teeth.

the next day there was a hole in the bag of bread that sat on top of the microwave. the day after that i found the first cluster of droppings. the day after that the tiny motherfucker figured he had me licked and made no secret of his presence, navigating the grate that backs the refrigerator with great excitement whenever its motor kicked to life. the sound of ittybitty claws on metal is not one i particularly care for. the kids took to calling him mr fantastic.

mr fantastic and i learned to live with each other until i saw him cartwheeling around the brightly lit living room. look at this brazen motherfucker i said loud enough for him to hear. i then told dude to Watch Out! a mouse is anything but sanitary, after all, and i allowed myself the unpleasant thought of him and his buddies playing my records.

the next day i laid out two glue traps and told the kids what to expect. for two days my son gleefully reported no mouse. yesterday i went for the kill and put the trap on the microwave with a martins potato roll. at four in the morning my daughter crawled into bed with me, it was then that i heard the panicked squeaks that reminded me of a chihuahua tethered in the rain.

im a city kid which means i aint used to killing things bigger than a cockroach. to my great shame i once left a mouse to die a slow, agonizing death from starvation on a glue trap in a garbage bag. not this time. up from bed i jumped and found poor mr fantastic desperately trying to flee on wobbly, twiggy legs. i dropped him and the trap into a plastic bag and then triple bagged the thing. (typical: with the second bag i trapped too much air and had to strenuously unknot then retie.) i went into the bathroom, closed the door and repeatedly bashed the bag(s) against the wall. on the last swing the outer bags tore away, and only lady providence with whom i barely have a nodding acquaintance kept the final bag from opening up and spilling mr fantastic chunks all over the walls and floor. i took the bag outside and placed it into the trash, strangely satisfied. ive not yet told the kids, but im sure theyll notice the missing trap. the other will stay right where it is, without bread.