I hate mice. If I were Superman, mice would be my Kryptonite. They are extremely fast, sneaky and just disgusting. I have been known to vacate my home for weeks if one was seen. I send in people to set traps and when they notify me something has been caught I will go back in. After spotting one I will have re-occurring nightmares of a posse of mice climbing up my bed and crawling all over me while I sleep. So you can imagine I was less than thrilled to have a confrontation with a mouse this week.
My mom had surgery and I had to get her home from the hospital. She was in quite a bit of pain when she walked so I needed to get her as close to her garage door as possible because entry to the house was much easier through the garage. So I parked my car across the steep driveway as close to the top as I could. Just as I reached out for my door handle I saw a mouse crawl out of her garage. Oh HELL NO!
Immediately I began to plan how long we can live in my car before we starve to death. Then I remembered she has been carved on and will probably need to change the bandages. I frantically dug through the glove compartment. My McDonald’s napkin stash should do the trick. That last drive-thru twit gave me a month supply.
“What in the hell are you doing?” asked my mother. Apparently, when someone saws on your leg it makes you a wee bit crabby.
“Um, well don’t panic or anything but there is a mouse in the driveway blocking us from getting into the garage” I replied.
“Have you lost your mind??? It is a mouse… a baby one at that. It will probably run off the second you open the car door,” she said. She so deserved all those extra painkillers I slipped in her food that evening. They made her as quiet as a…well you know.
I slowly opened the car door. It was just sitting there staring at me. I saw one of those little cartoon bubbles over his head that said something like, “You there, yes you, the fat one. Come on out…I am going to chase you all over this front yard.”
Getting out of the car was difficult enough but Ms. Crabby Butt in the backseat is yelling at me, “Go towards it, you will scare it away! Come on you sissy!”
Two loud steps later, the mouse is running at me, heading back into the garage. There was clearly something wrong with this mouse. It had a death wish and it had found the only person in the world that preferred avoiding mouse confrontations at all costs.
To my right in the garage was a snow shovel. I grabbed it and scooped up the mouse, flipping it airborne about halfway down the driveway. It rolled down the drive a ways kind of like how they teach you to drop and roll when your house is on fire. It came to a stop and just kind of looked around like what has this crazy person done to me??
With it being stunned I knew I had to start moving the patient in and quickly. I grabbed her by her jacket hood and started yanking her out of the car. She was screaming and complaining but any minute that mouse was going to realize what I had done and bring his posse to crawl all over me.
“Hey Mom, the faster you get in the house the faster you can get in your own bed! Doesn’t that sound good? So kick that walker into turbo and get this show on the road,” I said.
The whole time I am peeking over her shoulder to see how much longer we had. It was still just sitting there. This was by far the strangest mouse I had ever encountered.
I lugged the cripple up the two stairs in the garage and punched the button for the door to drop and protect me from the mouse. Phewwwwww that was close. I then realized that I still had to unpack the car. All the bouquets of flowers, her luggage, her ice bucket and her drugs were left to be unloaded. As much as I needed to steal some of her drugs to calm my nerves, they would just have to wait until I could call in some people to deal with this suicidal mouse. I had had enough mouse excitement to last me a lifetime.