Screw you, PETA; I’m going to shank a mouse.
We’re living with a mouse infestation. Up until now, the cheerful little gnawing within the walls hadn’t bothered me. I’ve been living in Florida, okay? Our cockroaches are bigger than these pussy little Alabama fuzzballs. We had a Neighborhood Watch strictly for the gators. I knew when I moved in to this rental house that rodents were involved. Mom’s scared of them, so I just put on my Big Girl Panties and resigned myself to catching and releasing the offenders from time to time. No big deal.
However, the Mouse Congress has declared war upon my state: they sneaked into my lunchbox sometime during the weekend and ate my Hershey’s Miniatures.
A caveat: I understand that Hershey’s chocolate is so synthetic and contaminated that mice eating it probably qualifies as cannibalism, but it tastes fine and I like living in delicious rat-dropping-and-sawdust denial. Not all of us suckle upon Godiva’s teat and roll around in our money before bedtime. And I really, really like chocolate, guys. I enjoyed brief middle school fame for eating a S’mores-flavored Pop Tart after it had been dropped on the playground well-past the expiration of the Five Second Rule. Chocolate and I? We’re more than just friends.
So when I unwrapped my Miniature and noted the gaping hole in the foil and surrounding teeth marks denting the sweet goodness inside, I had a miniature debate about whether or not I could still eat it. I didn’t. I’m pretty sure mice carry all manner of plague, and I’d rather not get Ebola of the face due to gluttony being my personal deadly sin.
The only place my lunchbox was all weekend-long was the kitchen counter. The Miniatures were just fine when I dropped them inside. So I had a mouse in my lunchbox, nosing over my clementine, nibbling on my napkin, and eating my chocolate. Poison is too good for the bastard. (We’re going to get those little boxes that trap them humanely. Ostensibly, this is because I’m going to free any mice I catch. However, since the Patriot Act is still in full force, I’m going to just say that the mice will be very well cared for indeed.)
Now excuse me, because I’m going to wash my hands/face/mouth forever.