The Village

As you can guess, I was up north in my favorite place in the world; Promises.  We had a weekend stuffed with family, friends, food and laughter; just what the doctor ordered.

Now I am very fond of entertaining. I love company and sharing my culinary adventures (every twenty minutes); with most visitors.  However, there were unwanted visitors this weekend: a mouse...and his buddies.  I had my suspicions when I heard tiny giggling and scritching late at night.  Upon our arrival for the weekend, I went around the house cranking up thermostats and discovered that those little squatters had been swimming after dark without a lifeguard and just like a party at Tommy Lee's house, there had been a bad decision ending in "tragedy". One of them had gone for a dip in my commode and not taken his floatie ring.  I screamed and ran away begging Cheech to save me.  He sighed and told me to "pull the damn trigger" and flush.  I couldn't do that. I wanted it OUT of my sanctuary. There could be no tainting by these foul varmints. So he had to traipse upstairs and remove the furry buoy.  We then began to look, discovering that my pantry became a smorgasbord equivalent to the Golden Corral.

They helped themselves to my sunflower seeds for apps and then ate my pecans for a first course. They seemed disappointed in the pearl barley but milled over my pasta.  Although the Doritos intrigued them, they couldn't handle the fact that they were covered in cayenne. They then proceeded to soothe themselves with my fun size Reese's Cups.  Well let me share a factoid  with you. There IS a wrong way to eat a Reese's, especially if you're a mouse in my home and the candy is mine. I was ticked. So I called them motherfiretrucking mooches, got out the peanut butter and set the traps. Well I cried until Cheech did it.  He was chivalrous and macho as he laid them in dark far back corners and tucked them away. We had to dash out and begin our visiting over the river and through the woods.

Upon arriving home, stood stalk still and listened.  I don't know what we thought we'd hear.  It was quiet; deathly so.  And he opened the cupboard, pulled out the trap and stared at me.

"He's here." he whispered.

I covered my mouth I think to stifle the scream welling up in my chest.  Was it jubilation or horror? I don't know.  Cheech marched outside to dump our victory in the woods.  I followed him to the porch; no closer, and watched with macabre interest.  He opened the little door and shook the box.  Nothing.  He turned to peek inside.

I never thought that the mouse might still be alive.

He launched that deathtrap farther than the newly set punkin chunkin record with a yelp.  It was drowned out by the words shouted "IT'S NOT EFFING DEAAAAD!"

I will tell you that the word and emotion that smacked my body with the force of a speeding bullet train was terror. In my mind that little bastard had dialed all his pals, given them a single order: "Don't stop until she's laughing in madness" I screamed. And I wailed "What do we do NOW? Who do we call?" panic frayed the tone of my voice like an unravelling sweater.

You can NOT file a restraining order for wildlife.  I just want you to know that.  Our hearts were pounding in our chests. I was panting as if I'd been running for miles. I dashed inside and flopped on the couch feeling just the slightest bit dizzy, queasy.  The dogs came and they sat all over me. I wanted to feel safe, bury my face in their fur and cry until the nocturnal ninjas had all moved on. Forever.

My knight came inside laughing hysterically to see me drawn and pail on our "slouch couch"
"Save me...." I begged.

"Oh Jeez... Get up.  We will get them."

"All?"

"All." he promised.

And he hugged me.  I looked over his shoulder and above the sink where the perfect community for these vile demons silently sits; my collection of birdhouses; a village of the dammed. I smiled wickedly and pulled the family sized jar of peanut butter from the "Golden Corral"

"Yes. All." I muttered.




Ohhh if only you could have seen me! I did my best to share it with you and I hope you smiled. I have to laugh at myself. If I didn't, I might feel guilty when I giggled and pointed at others. Trite? yes. But....

:)