The Great Hunt
Apr. 25th, 2018 09:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zesty_pinto"Don?"
I had kickstarted the Battletech fundraiser at a relatively high tier, so was paving my way through some light pirate mechs in the Periphery with my lance at the time. I yelled back an annoyed "What?"
Her silence made me curious, so I stepped out of my cockpi- my plain office seat to find her not really paying attention to the highly anticipated return of The Handmaid's Tale but towards the kitchen.
I stepped to the kitchen and look around.
"I saw it looking at me before it ran. It was a mouse."
So began my previous night as the inept Tom to a very boring Jerry.
Michelle seemed to know where this tiny furry thing was as I could not even see nor hear this phantom rodent. Its creeping and its ability to scurry past my line of sight continued to freak out from the menace of theBatmanmouse. I honestly was not looking forward to this as it was already 11pm and I wanted to go to bed, but I also know that resident mice means I find holes in my bags of expensive new beans and little "chocolate sprinkles" that will adorn foods where no chocolate sprinkle dare travel.
So god damn it, I did what any sane person would do. Icalled out a hit on the elusive "Batman"took the largest pot I could find, took the press and seal, got the peanut butter, smeared a dab on the underbelly of the seal, wrapped it over said pot, and cut a tiny hole.
This device caught me many little mice while at summer camp, so I figured this might also work out the same way. Left it in a corner, added a ramp out of cardboard and a plank over the pot to make the experience more stable, and waited. Michelle, fearing for her life of the wrath of a 4 inch monster (even she acknowledged it was smaller than she expected), relegated to the closed confine of the bedroom.
I got back on to the computer and tried to help raise funds for my struggling mech outfit.
More waiting, though at least this was a fun sort of waiting.
Soon enough, Michelle stepped out, and asked why I wasn't in bed. I told her that I was going to wait until I heard a sound from the kitchen. Some mice can jump out of the bucket so I wanted to be sure to catch it before it escaped my ingenious doomsday device to scurry again another day same mouse time and same mouse channel. I think house mice don't have that problem but I wanted to be sure.
Michelle was disappointed at this, not realizing this is how I work, so I looked at the time, sighed, and gave up. I know she also wanted me to be in bed because she feared the mouse could get in there, waiting to wreak havoc on her with its tiny squeaky jaws, beady little caviar eyes, and that lumpy little potato body. So I relented and just went to bed with the door open. I could tell this freaked out Michelle, even as I reminded her that if it really wanted to it could squeeze through the bottom of the door and how much I emphasized there was nothing in the bedroom the mouse could want.
"It could try to eat me!"
I gave her a look and she knew how ridiculous it sounded but she seemed to genuinely believe this finger-length boogeyman would come and gobble her up.
So I lied in bed and asked, "Who's the leader of the gang that's made for you and me?"
Michelle didn't find that funny.
I'm a terrible person because I couldn't stop snickering about it for hours.
Justice came for me as a result as my vigilance kept me up all night.
At one point I realized that we had ultrasound repellents in the house from our last rental. Michelle realized it and began searching and, sure enough, we found all four of them.
Each outlet in the kitchen is now adorned with a pill-shaped device that plays a high-pitched squeal. It has, at the very least, done a great job in making me not want to sleep there.
I left the trap out overnight just in case the wailing and gnashing of ultrasound would not deter it enough. It still didn't stop me from having problems sleeping as I found it hard to be comfortable and as Michelle's sensitivity to stimuli was enhanced like a flying mammal people associate with a superhero for some reason.
In the uncomfortable mess of that night, I dreamt that Kanye was in my house and no one really liked him because he was a libertarian douche. He paid me for some work I did for him with an ancient half dollar which he seemed to believe was worth a lot of money, but I was skeptical.
When the dreaded night finally gave way to morning, we both woke up groggy and bland and my trap had remained untouched and the can bottom remained untampered.
The mouse took the hint somewhere between one and four mouse repellents and never came back, I guess. I suppose we shall see later tonight, as Michelle continues to watch TV.
Perhaps her eyes will lean towards the kitchen again, to the white oven and, in its visible underbelly, find that sometimes when you stare into the black yawning abyss of an appliance's underside, it will be staring right back.
I had kickstarted the Battletech fundraiser at a relatively high tier, so was paving my way through some light pirate mechs in the Periphery with my lance at the time. I yelled back an annoyed "What?"
Her silence made me curious, so I stepped out of my cockpi- my plain office seat to find her not really paying attention to the highly anticipated return of The Handmaid's Tale but towards the kitchen.
I stepped to the kitchen and look around.
"I saw it looking at me before it ran. It was a mouse."
So began my previous night as the inept Tom to a very boring Jerry.
Michelle seemed to know where this tiny furry thing was as I could not even see nor hear this phantom rodent. Its creeping and its ability to scurry past my line of sight continued to freak out from the menace of the
So god damn it, I did what any sane person would do. I
This device caught me many little mice while at summer camp, so I figured this might also work out the same way. Left it in a corner, added a ramp out of cardboard and a plank over the pot to make the experience more stable, and waited. Michelle, fearing for her life of the wrath of a 4 inch monster (even she acknowledged it was smaller than she expected), relegated to the closed confine of the bedroom.
I got back on to the computer and tried to help raise funds for my struggling mech outfit.
More waiting, though at least this was a fun sort of waiting.
Soon enough, Michelle stepped out, and asked why I wasn't in bed. I told her that I was going to wait until I heard a sound from the kitchen. Some mice can jump out of the bucket so I wanted to be sure to catch it before it escaped my ingenious doomsday device to scurry again another day same mouse time and same mouse channel. I think house mice don't have that problem but I wanted to be sure.
Michelle was disappointed at this, not realizing this is how I work, so I looked at the time, sighed, and gave up. I know she also wanted me to be in bed because she feared the mouse could get in there, waiting to wreak havoc on her with its tiny squeaky jaws, beady little caviar eyes, and that lumpy little potato body. So I relented and just went to bed with the door open. I could tell this freaked out Michelle, even as I reminded her that if it really wanted to it could squeeze through the bottom of the door and how much I emphasized there was nothing in the bedroom the mouse could want.
"It could try to eat me!"
I gave her a look and she knew how ridiculous it sounded but she seemed to genuinely believe this finger-length boogeyman would come and gobble her up.
So I lied in bed and asked, "Who's the leader of the gang that's made for you and me?"
Michelle didn't find that funny.
I'm a terrible person because I couldn't stop snickering about it for hours.
Justice came for me as a result as my vigilance kept me up all night.
At one point I realized that we had ultrasound repellents in the house from our last rental. Michelle realized it and began searching and, sure enough, we found all four of them.
Each outlet in the kitchen is now adorned with a pill-shaped device that plays a high-pitched squeal. It has, at the very least, done a great job in making me not want to sleep there.
I left the trap out overnight just in case the wailing and gnashing of ultrasound would not deter it enough. It still didn't stop me from having problems sleeping as I found it hard to be comfortable and as Michelle's sensitivity to stimuli was enhanced like a flying mammal people associate with a superhero for some reason.
In the uncomfortable mess of that night, I dreamt that Kanye was in my house and no one really liked him because he was a libertarian douche. He paid me for some work I did for him with an ancient half dollar which he seemed to believe was worth a lot of money, but I was skeptical.
When the dreaded night finally gave way to morning, we both woke up groggy and bland and my trap had remained untouched and the can bottom remained untampered.
The mouse took the hint somewhere between one and four mouse repellents and never came back, I guess. I suppose we shall see later tonight, as Michelle continues to watch TV.
Perhaps her eyes will lean towards the kitchen again, to the white oven and, in its visible underbelly, find that sometimes when you stare into the black yawning abyss of an appliance's underside, it will be staring right back.
