:: Electric Psychedelic Pussycat Swinger's Club ::

:: Tuesday, June 15, 2004 ::

mice & karma

Sometime last month, I discovered I had a new roommate. Despite his unassuming size, my small studio apartment was not big enough for two; especially since he wasn't chipping in for rent.

I would be awakened late at night by subtle scratching sounds behind my oven. At first, I attributed the noises to the gas pipes and dismissed it accordingly, because living in the City That Never Sleeps means you grow accustomed to blocking out random noises. I should have known better.

Shortly thereafter, while sitting at my desk one afternoon, I happened to glance behind me to see if the trash needed taking out. Low and behold, what did I see but a tiny gray blur streak across the kitchen floor! But get this: I still refused to believe it was a mouse. Because 'all I really saw was a blur', I thought to myself. Because my mind may simply have been playing tricks on me. But mostly because I didn't want to deal with all the headaches that go along with having an uninvited guest in the house.

So after much debate (and countless hours of paranoid sleep), I decided I had to buy traps of the sticky variety. They were advertised as "scented" sticky traps, convenient because you didn't have to bait them with food. So, I set 4 traps in places where the little rodent would likely hang out.

Week 1: no mouse.
Week 2: no mouse. continued scratchy sounds.
Week 3: no mouse. exhaustion from paranoid induced insomnia sets in.
Week 4: discover tiny poops on kitchen counter. nearly throw up in disgust it's able to climb up there. still no mouse.

I was beginning to wonder if this thing was playing games with me. I knew when I discovered it was willing to come out into the clear and eat hershey's kisses straight from the counter-top that it had absolutely no respect for me. Discouraged and downtrodden, I started to believe this was no ordinary mouse. It must have been some sort of uncatchable 'Super Mouse':



Aha! But upon returning from a weekend hiatus, I came home to discover the rat bastard lying helplessly on the trap. Knowing it had a sweet tooth, Bill, who was visiting at the time, placed a small Hershey's Kiss in the middle of the trap. GOTCHA, SUCKA!

Prognosis? Death from starvation. Its head was normal in size, but its body was shriveled up and bony. Guilt started to set in. Great. I finally catch the little shit that's been eating me out of house and home, crapping on my counters, and keeping me up countless nights and I'm overwhelmed with Karmic guilt. I try not to kill insects such as spiders and ants because everything deserves a chance at life. But when it comes to rodents, should the principles of Karma allow for an exception?

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