Please Note: It was very late when the original manuscript for this was written. I am being a good boy, and an honest fellow, and reproducing it as it was written, with very little editing. Oh, and the time stamp is wrong. Please forgive me.
I am officially at war with the local tribe of mive. And by tribe, I (hope I) mean only two or three. When did it all begin? Let me explain…
It was the 31st day of March, 2006 (“yesterday” for the laymen out there). I was fast asleep in my bed.
There was a rustling. Enough rustling to wake me up, which is normally a bit of a task. Just ask my alarm clock.
As I sat up I noticed an ever-so-slight movement among some scattered papers (various printed articles from ALA, and some GED practice papers) and a Wal-Mart bag that was currently storing some paper garbage and a bag of peanuts from Texas Roadhouse (given to me. I’ve never been there).
The movement was less, but the rustling remained.
Within an arms length from my bed was a pesky rodent, aparently trying to burrow in my garbage, or else eating some of my stale peanuts.
I waited and watched, developing a plan…. what to do? I was groggy, not to mention un-armed. But then it came to me… Just beyond the rodent activity zone was my favorite pair of shoes. Well-worn Vans Old Skool Classics, pair two of two.
I must now apologize to any women in the audience, for the plan that came to me was…
CRUSH IT! I’ll grab my shoe and smash it like a bug! Ha! Escape me now, you pesky rat! (mouse… whatever…)
So, ever-so-quietly, I shifted my position, leaned waaaay out, reached beyond my enemy, grasped one amazing shoe, and slowly, quietly moved my upper body back to it’s crouching position on my bed.
[there was] Rustling.
I wanted to see the movement though. I knew I only had one chance to make it work. To get it right.
I couldn’t tell exactly where it was. My eyes were still barely working.
Alright. It’s narrow enough. He’s surely been there awhile. What if he gets bored? Finishes what he was doing. Or worse… what if he has a spider-sense and will know to leave before I strike?
So I harnessed all of the spare energy from here to the moon, gathered and directed my Chi through my chest to my arm, and Prayed that the mouse knew Jesus on a first-name-basis…
And there was a shock-wave.
A crater 3 feet wide where the shoe hit the floor…. wait… well… anyway… I pressed the big red “Launch!” button in my mind, my arm rocketed down towards the pile of rubble that would soon become a… remain a… pile of rubble.
Surely I woke everyone up. Probably not, though.
No tearing sounds, no movement.
No crinkling, no chewing.
I lifted the shoe and surveyed the scene. I wondered if I had made enough contact to make a ‘mess’, or if perhaps I only broke his neck or some such and could simply scoop him up.
Slowly I poked at the papers. The Wal-Mart bag was in the way, and I knew he wasn’t in there, so I pushed that to the side.
With the shoe, I began trying to peek under the layers of paper.
Further in, nothing.
Perhaps further to the right? Nothing.
The stack wasn’t that big… had he gotten away?
And then I wondered…
The Wal-Mart bag. The peanuts!
I lowered my head, my body still on the bed, gazing into the small paper and plastic cave. Nothing. No rustling. No movement. But there must be a body.
Again, the shoe as my tool, this time into the bag. Pushing back the top for a better view…
There was the peanut bag… a small brown paper bag… torn. Probably from “the blast”, I thought… pushing it with the shoe…
One bound, I noticed, and then a leap! The leap so great that he went above the shoe and landed next to my bed, never touching a thing on the way.
Was that Mighty Mouse? Did he just fly?
How long did he lay in wait, barely breathing, not moving, before taking his chance to escape?
I simply watched him get away. I supposed for fooling me he deserved another chance. Also, if an atomic shoe blast wouldn’t take him out, I didn’t figure a wildy thrown object would do the trick either.
And so began the war.
Later that day I noticed they all must have been celebrating, because I saw what looked like two mice playing together. Of course, they quickly vanished.
I spent the rest of that day going about my business, all the while allowing my subconcious to develope the plans that will go into motion beginning today.
I have decided to be proactive. I will not set traps on my territory and wait for them to come to me… well, I will, but I’ll also… hunt them down. Find their lairs and disturb them. Chase them out. If they go only so far, I’ll the same again. If they live, they will live as nomadic mice, contantly on the run. they will not be happy like Mickey Mouse. They will not triumphant like Mighty Mouse. No. They will pray the speed of Speedy Gonzalez. They will be haunted with nightmares, perhaps of Pink Elephants, like a certain drunken Timothy Mouse.
I will seek them out. I will destroy them.
Or they’ll leave or something… either way, I’ll be happy.