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R. Linda:
Its deadly true, the damn wee bugger of a small sized rat came back he did. I was not feeling at all well and not wanting to take another jaunt to the hardware store to see if the snap traps had arrived yet. I decided to sit it out and worry about it another day. But lo and behold, I was not going to get to sit it out. The wee vermin had the brass mouse balls to show itself on me coffee table WHILE I WAS LYING PRONE ON ME COUCH watching me telly. The nerve!
There he was, sniffing along the tabletop, finding me paper plate with old bread crumbs and right in front of me eyes, he started nibbling. Me eyes must have turned from amazed saucers to slits of rage, as I brought me fist up and hit the table. Mouse, crumbs, paper plate all vibrated upward and then as they all came down, the wee beastie took off like a bat out of hell.
I knew he was wise to me cage, so I decided a fly swatter would do it, but then I found I didn't have one. However, I did have me big shoe, so I slapped that bad boy across me palm in wait. But nothing. The wee critter must have been watching me from some mouse hole across the room.
Before long I fell into a state of boredom. I let the shoe drop and settled back down to watch more telly. Well, that was when the slick beastie decided to nose around the fallen shoe. I saw something move from the corner of me eye and when I trained both me blues on him, I was amazed at the gall of the little rat.
I grabbed a Burger King super sized plastic cup and in fine fashion scooped the little shite up into it. I was happy, never a happier man was there. One swoop R. Linda, and I had the little bastard in me Pepsi cup. I considered dropping him from the window to the ground below, but what if someone walked out and well, you can picture the rest. I went into the water closet and thought about flushing him down the toilet, but what if he swam back up? I took meself down the stairs to the backdoor and walked out to the fat tree in the back. With one good heave ho out of the cup he flew and smack into the tree trunk.
"Take that you son of a goatherd's mother!" I yelled, then realised I was outside in me pajamas acting like a crazy sod. I hurried inside and from me upstairs window I looked out at where I thought he had fallen. At first I couldn't get a bead on him, but suddenly I saw the wee brown body at the base of the tree. I will tell you it gave me great satisfaction to have murdered the wee rat. I felt no remorse, no none at all. It must be this apartment and the influence of Flanagan, yeah that's the ticket.
Seems the little rat problem is no longer a problem. I do think that from now on, I will revert to using a plastic cup to scoop the vermin up (I think I can get quite adept at it), and then I will use me good throwing arm and toss them flying through the air into the trunk of a tree. It sounds bloody gruesome I know . . . but wait a moment. Be right back.
OH FECKING HELL!!!
One would think the wee buggers would die on impact, but oh no, does not work that way. It seems to stun them . . . and back they come, like now, right here, swaying sideways across me floor, like it's drunk, and there it goes at full tilt into the kitchen!
I'm afraid the snap traps are the only way. Nothing worst than hearing them go off in the dead of night and then the flopping around until the deadly silence settles in. Oh such fond memories of me childhood, not! But what choice have I now? I thought it was cats that have nine lives, not mice.
Furious in Boston,
R. Linda:
Its deadly true, the damn wee bugger of a small sized rat came back he did. I was not feeling at all well and not wanting to take another jaunt to the hardware store to see if the snap traps had arrived yet. I decided to sit it out and worry about it another day. But lo and behold, I was not going to get to sit it out. The wee vermin had the brass mouse balls to show itself on me coffee table WHILE I WAS LYING PRONE ON ME COUCH watching me telly. The nerve!
There he was, sniffing along the tabletop, finding me paper plate with old bread crumbs and right in front of me eyes, he started nibbling. Me eyes must have turned from amazed saucers to slits of rage, as I brought me fist up and hit the table. Mouse, crumbs, paper plate all vibrated upward and then as they all came down, the wee beastie took off like a bat out of hell.
I knew he was wise to me cage, so I decided a fly swatter would do it, but then I found I didn't have one. However, I did have me big shoe, so I slapped that bad boy across me palm in wait. But nothing. The wee critter must have been watching me from some mouse hole across the room.
Before long I fell into a state of boredom. I let the shoe drop and settled back down to watch more telly. Well, that was when the slick beastie decided to nose around the fallen shoe. I saw something move from the corner of me eye and when I trained both me blues on him, I was amazed at the gall of the little rat.
I grabbed a Burger King super sized plastic cup and in fine fashion scooped the little shite up into it. I was happy, never a happier man was there. One swoop R. Linda, and I had the little bastard in me Pepsi cup. I considered dropping him from the window to the ground below, but what if someone walked out and well, you can picture the rest. I went into the water closet and thought about flushing him down the toilet, but what if he swam back up? I took meself down the stairs to the backdoor and walked out to the fat tree in the back. With one good heave ho out of the cup he flew and smack into the tree trunk.
"Take that you son of a goatherd's mother!" I yelled, then realised I was outside in me pajamas acting like a crazy sod. I hurried inside and from me upstairs window I looked out at where I thought he had fallen. At first I couldn't get a bead on him, but suddenly I saw the wee brown body at the base of the tree. I will tell you it gave me great satisfaction to have murdered the wee rat. I felt no remorse, no none at all. It must be this apartment and the influence of Flanagan, yeah that's the ticket.
Seems the little rat problem is no longer a problem. I do think that from now on, I will revert to using a plastic cup to scoop the vermin up (I think I can get quite adept at it), and then I will use me good throwing arm and toss them flying through the air into the trunk of a tree. It sounds bloody gruesome I know . . . but wait a moment. Be right back.
OH FECKING HELL!!!
One would think the wee buggers would die on impact, but oh no, does not work that way. It seems to stun them . . . and back they come, like now, right here, swaying sideways across me floor, like it's drunk, and there it goes at full tilt into the kitchen!
I'm afraid the snap traps are the only way. Nothing worst than hearing them go off in the dead of night and then the flopping around until the deadly silence settles in. Oh such fond memories of me childhood, not! But what choice have I now? I thought it was cats that have nine lives, not mice.
Furious in Boston,
Gabe
Copyright © 2004 All rights reserved
Copyright © 2004 All rights reserved
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