So our property has been breached. Call the NSA, CIA, SWAT teams, Jackie Chan, Charles Bronson (for you old schoolers)...
Apparently the house has been infiltrated by the Meeces. No, not mice. Meeces. For months I've heard the pitter-patter of small rodent feet, but I could never find the point of entry or their dens (or whatever you call them). After some closer inspection I found that they were using the vast duct work in our house to plot their underhanded schemes. BUT as all rodent criminals do they leave a trail that can get them caught.
Last Saturday I was up to my usual chores and one of them involves getting our pool and spa water checked. Upon reaching our basement to get the spa water sample I noticed a small furry creature scurrying around on the floor. With my attention now turned towards the floor I also noticed two other meeces, both of which had passed on into meece eternity.
I toyed with the living meece for a while, chasing it back and forth across the floor. I tried to vacuum it up with the wet/dry vac but the thought of it being sucked into household cleaning oblivion was a little too harsh to fathom. So I left the basement and let the sucker live for a little bit longer...
Fast forward to this past Thursday evening. After dinner with the 'rents my mom noticed that little rodent scampering around the kitchen. I quickly cornered the little varmint between the water cooler and the heating vents that line our fireplace. Finally!! The meece's time had come. I was about to smoteth thee with the right, and left hand as well as left and right elbow strikes followed by an arm bar and then finish things off with a rear naked choke hold. Ummm yeah...the meece had other ideas...
With my left leg blocking a possible escape route near the water cooler, I tried to grab the little Mickey. Again more ideas by the meece...It jumped over my leg and found some temporary shelter underneath our dishwasher. Curses...
But take heart (I'm sure that you have) I had a fullproof plan to end this rodent tyranny. I decided to let some traps do the talking (umm catching rather). The trap of choice is the one with the really sticky substance with some seeds on top that tricks the meeces into walking right on the stickum while trying to get a midnight snack.
Sure enough Friday morning we got our boy (or girl, or it, or whatever). Still alive, but very stuck was the meece. It struggled for freedom but to no avail. My orders from the 'rents were to get rid of the captured varmint. But in an odd way. "Don't throw it away, wait until it dies and then get rid of it." What the dang is the difference? Who knows...
So I took the meece with the trap put it in a plastic garbage bag, tied it up and put it outside. Eventually it would die. I haven't gotten it and thrown it away yet. It's Sunday. 7:18pm. Think the meece is still alive? Hmmm. My dad asked me today after church if I was using this meece as an example for all future meeces who try and enter our home. No not really, but actually that's not a bad idea... Is PETA gonna come after me? Eh...Who cares...
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