The Mouse and Me
February 6th 2007 12:16
I hadn't slept in three days. The carpark-burnout king next door, along with the constant weekend stream of screechy sluts and chuckling jocks, had made sure of that. On the third night, a Sunday, I had hoped for a respite from this behaviour. Luckily, I got it. It seems dickheads need their rest before Monday too.
Nevertheless, I continued to have trouble putting my thoughts to rest. As I finally began to drift away into the comforting and distant arms of sleep I was rudely ripped back into wakefulness by a presence in my room.
A obscenely loud scratching and scuttling, right by my ear... was something in the wall? I tried to block the sound out, but it continued. So I pulled myself up onto my backside and reached for the bedside light.
The mouse sat on my bedside table, so far unnamed despite it's regular tenancy in our house. It ran from sight when it realised my eyes were open it. Furious, I lept to my feet and switched on the lightbulb proper. I threw my head against the wall, trying to spy down the crack behind the table, to make sure I had seen what I had seen.
"What do you want?" cried the mouse.
"Get outta my fucking room" I replied.
"Why?"
"You're keeping me awake!"
The mouse bit it's tongue and spoke no further, obviously aware that by doing so it would provoke my wrath. The fact that this mouse - a lowly rodent - was speaking at all was enough to anger me. How dare it so easily break the common conceptions of mouse-intelligence, or lack thereof!
I ran to the back room of the house and grabbed the longest, heavist piece of drum hardware I could find. On my return I struck the metal stand down the crack, delighting as the mouse was flushed from it's refuge.
"Out! Out! Out!" I shouted triumphantly.
The mouse scuttled further out of reach, as mice do, and under my bed where I had fuckall chance of getting it.
"I shall make you a deal!" it squeaked.
I waited, silently.
"Let me go and I shall never come into this room again".
"Sure" I replied.
I waited still, but it remained hidden.
"C'mon then".
"How do I know you won't try to get me?" asked the mouse hesitantly.
"You have my word", sincerely.
The mouse slowly crept out from under the bed, it's nose wavering up at me, it's whiskers all-a-scitter.
I smashed the drum stand down upon it, knocking the twitching creature out cold, and displacing it's insides enough to kill it. You see, I could never give me word to a mouse, because they're little cunts and they have no business in my room or my language.
Nevertheless, I continued to have trouble putting my thoughts to rest. As I finally began to drift away into the comforting and distant arms of sleep I was rudely ripped back into wakefulness by a presence in my room.
A obscenely loud scratching and scuttling, right by my ear... was something in the wall? I tried to block the sound out, but it continued. So I pulled myself up onto my backside and reached for the bedside light.
The mouse sat on my bedside table, so far unnamed despite it's regular tenancy in our house. It ran from sight when it realised my eyes were open it. Furious, I lept to my feet and switched on the lightbulb proper. I threw my head against the wall, trying to spy down the crack behind the table, to make sure I had seen what I had seen.
"What do you want?" cried the mouse.
"Get outta my fucking room" I replied.
"Why?"
"You're keeping me awake!"
The mouse bit it's tongue and spoke no further, obviously aware that by doing so it would provoke my wrath. The fact that this mouse - a lowly rodent - was speaking at all was enough to anger me. How dare it so easily break the common conceptions of mouse-intelligence, or lack thereof!
I ran to the back room of the house and grabbed the longest, heavist piece of drum hardware I could find. On my return I struck the metal stand down the crack, delighting as the mouse was flushed from it's refuge.
"Out! Out! Out!" I shouted triumphantly.
The mouse scuttled further out of reach, as mice do, and under my bed where I had fuckall chance of getting it.
"I shall make you a deal!" it squeaked.
I waited, silently.
"Let me go and I shall never come into this room again".
"Sure" I replied.
I waited still, but it remained hidden.
"C'mon then".
"How do I know you won't try to get me?" asked the mouse hesitantly.
"You have my word", sincerely.
The mouse slowly crept out from under the bed, it's nose wavering up at me, it's whiskers all-a-scitter.
I smashed the drum stand down upon it, knocking the twitching creature out cold, and displacing it's insides enough to kill it. You see, I could never give me word to a mouse, because they're little cunts and they have no business in my room or my language.
| 47 |
| Vote |
Subscribe to this blog
Comment by Anonymous
old el bastardo
Comment by Luke
Book Club
Old Movies
Cane Toad Warrior