Mouse Mafia.

……continued from last blog post……

Well then…….  NO MORE MISS NICE GUY!!

This here,  was WAR!!  

I stormed back into the house, threw the empty bucket on the floor, kicked off my UGG’s and grabbed my cell phone.  I then texted my neighbor.

Dylan.  I need mouse traps.  STAT!!

By adding the “stat”, I had hoped that my neighbour would respond instantly.  After all, this WAS a crisis.  Similar to a medical emergency.  I’m sure that my brother, the general surgeon of the family, dealt with serious situations like this all the time, in which he responded ASAP.  

Dylan…….however….. did NOT see the urgency in this matter.   

He waited until later on that afternoon to respond and then “strolled” over with a beer in one hand and a few mouse traps in the other.

Clearly he did not understand the severity of the situation.

“What’s going on?” he asked WAY too casually.  “You got a mouse in your garage or something?”

“Dylan!” I yelled, “This is a code RED!  Or….. blue?  Whichever is the more serious colour!!”

My neighbour rolled his eyes, smirked and proceeded to open up the little mouse traps.

“I HAVE A MOUSE IN MY CAR!!” I squealed.

I paused for Dylan’s reaction.

He looked up at me and laughed and said, “No you don’t!!”

“YES!!  YES, I DO!!  I HAVE A MOUSE LIVING IN MY CAR!!  Look!!”  

I then ran to my car and proceeded to show him in great detail all of the damage that the little furry asshole had caused.

Dylan stared in disbelief.

He kept laughing (rudely) but then finally seemed to agree with me.

“Wow.  I actually think you DO have a mouse living in your car!?”

I rolled my eyes and said “DUH!!”  (Similar to how one of the little Olsen twins would have said on Full House back in the 90’s).

NOW my neighbour was finally invested in this crisis situation.  Took him long enough!

He told me to go cut some chunks of cheese for the traps.  When I asked him if marble was ok, he told me that mice don’t like marble.  And that they only like expensive cheese, like gouda, and gruyere. 

“But...... I don’t have any expensive cheeses!??”  I wined.

Dylan burst out laughing.  

Turns out he was joking.  I didn’t laugh.  

He was making a Goddam mockery of me!!

>:/ 

We carefully set up about 10 mouse traps, all in the garage.  And when I say “we”, I actually mean “he”. 

There was no way in hell I was going to accidentally snap my finger setting those crazy traps up. I had just painted my nails after all!

Anyway, his theory was to keep the car outside in the cold and not in the garage so mice wouldn't get into it, and then catch all the mice in the garage with the traps. I actually liked his plan!

He told me to check on the traps over the next few weeks and see how many we caught.

I did not do this.

I just assumed that all of the mice were caught and that one day Dylan would kindly come and clean them up for me :)

After a few weeks, and no further damage to my beautiful car, and many "caught" mice in the garage (according to my neighbour), I had assumed that the asshole had finally moved out of my beautiful car, and got caught in one of the traps in the garage.

SUCKER!!!  

Or so  I thought.

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I drove to work one morning and noticed one of Molly’s small plastic toys sitting on the passenger seat beside me.  It was a small plastic toy horse. 

I picked up the horse and placed it on the center console to remind me to bring it back into the house after I got home after work later that day.

At the end of the day, I opened my car door and nearly passed out from what I saw.

The head of the horse on my driver's seat!!

Ladies and gentlemen, this was no regular mouse.

This was the head of the MOUSE MAFIA!!

Insert The GodFather theme music here.

I screamed, threw the horse head out of my car and raced home.

As soon as I pulled up to my house, I jumped out of the car, ran into the garage, and threw all of the mouse traps in the garbage.

I mean.........we can all live in peace together, can't we????

The End.