"Consider the little mouse, how sagacious an animal it is which never entrusts its life to one hole only." – Plautus (c. 254-184 B.C.)
"For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ." – Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2, William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
"I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die." – Folsom Prison Blues, Johnny Cash (1932-2003)
This morning as I went to wash my sunglasses in the kitchen sink, both me and this little fellow leapt in panic. I regained control and assessed that somehow the mouse had damaged his hindquarters while foraging in the basin for scraps. I had seen his droppings around the apartment for a few days as evidence of an unwanted guest. Mice have bothered me before. I'm slightly adept at killing so set out to dispatch this pest. That's when I hit some difficulty.
I didn't know how to finish the mouse off. No cats or poison in the cupboard. I didn't have a hammer and I was too squeamish to stab him. Drowning seemed like the only option, but I couldn't fill the sink with water. I dug a pair of meatball-forming tongs out of the drawer and scooped him into a sauce pot. He was swimming too valiantly to bear, so I dumped him in the toilet, intent on flushing. As I reached for the handle, I reconsidered, thinking the trip down too foul a way to go. He swam on.
His front legs were churning while his back legs held still, broken by some mishap he had in my sink. I thought about how hard life must be for a mouse, so small in a world so large. They do extreme mountain climbing 24-7 so accidents are bound to happen.
He kept treading, but I couldn't watch, so I gave horrified looks to myself in the mirror. It seemed like he did laps forever. I considered fishing him out, but I knew he needed to be put down. Finally after an eternity, and before one come to think of it, he went to the bottom. In the end, the broken back legs were able to move, shivering in a death spasm. I returned him to the ocean and flushed once more for good measure.
I'm think I'm off meat until we can breed some evil cows. Or until I get hungry.
…
Much fun last night. Kristen and Grieg, in town for a conference, made it to The Edge for beer, pizza, and festivity. Val had organized a birthday party for Lindsay and Tyler and Erik wandered into the mix. We all had chairs, buybacks, and good dispositions. Definitely a great random night. I know I'm going to pay for pre-empting Kristen with a half-drowned mouse.
…
Site of the Day: Because the FCC is evil, try and use the word "fuck" a lot today. Or show your nipple in public.
"Consider the little mouse, how sagacious an animal it is which never entrusts its life to one hole only." – Plautus (c. 254-184 B.C.)
"For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ." – Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2, William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
"I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die." – Folsom Prison Blues, Johnny Cash (1932-2003)
This morning as I went to wash my sunglasses in the kitchen sink, both me and this little fellow leapt in panic. I regained control and assessed that somehow the mouse had damaged his hindquarters while foraging in the basin for scraps. I had seen his droppings around the apartment for a few days as evidence of an unwanted guest. Mice have bothered me before. I'm slightly adept at killing so set out to dispatch this pest. That's when I hit some difficulty.
I didn't know how to finish the mouse off. No cats or poison in the cupboard. I didn't have a hammer and I was too squeamish to stab him. Drowning seemed like the only option, but I couldn't fill the sink with water. I dug a pair of meatball-forming tongs out of the drawer and scooped him into a sauce pot. He was swimming too valiantly to bear, so I dumped him in the toilet, intent on flushing. As I reached for the handle, I reconsidered, thinking the trip down too foul a way to go. He swam on.
His front legs were churning while his back legs held still, broken by some mishap he had in my sink. I thought about how hard life must be for a mouse, so small in a world so large. They do extreme mountain climbing 24-7 so accidents are bound to happen.
He kept treading, but I couldn't watch, so I gave horrified looks to myself in the mirror. It seemed like he did laps forever. I considered fishing him out, but I knew he needed to be put down. Finally after an eternity, and before one come to think of it, he went to the bottom. In the end, the broken back legs were able to move, shivering in a death spasm. I returned him to the ocean and flushed once more for good measure.
I'm think I'm off meat until we can breed some evil cows. Or until I get hungry.
…
Much fun last night. Kristen and Grieg, in town for a conference, made it to The Edge for beer, pizza, and festivity. Val had organized a birthday party for Lindsay and Tyler and Erik wandered into the mix. We all had chairs, buybacks, and good dispositions. Definitely a great random night. I know I'm going to pay for pre-empting Kristen with a half-drowned mouse.
…
Site of the Day: Because the FCC is evil, try and use the word "fuck" a lot today. Or show your nipple in public.