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Friend or Foe?

November 8, 2009

We’ve got mice running around in our walls.

My roommate set up traps in the garage, where it seems like they’ve made their way in, and lured the cute, disgusting little things into them with peanut butter.

Smart girl.  Who wouldn’t risk entrapment for peanut butter?  I know I would.

But these are smart mice, I have to say.  They ate the peanut butter and got away, although, it seems, not without a struggle.

I didn’t see them, but she said the way she found the traps, all she could do was imagine one caught up while the other grabbed his tiny little hands, screaming, “Don’t worry!  I’ll help you!”

All this imagined scene was really missing was some sort of time line to add to the suspense– you know, like in The Great Mouse Detective, when Ratigan’s song ends, and the record player trips off a complex Rube Goldberg sort of machine that means imminent and total death for Basil of Baker Street and his trusty friend, Dr. David Q. Dawson.

Until they use the simple and obvious laws of physics and geometry to set themselves free instead, of course.

But now that we’ve turned these little rodents into Disney characters in our heads, I’m really not so sure I want them to go.

I mean, of course I do.  There’s no way they can actually get into the house at the moment, but hearing them scratching in the walls at night while I’m trying to sleep isn’t the awesomest thing ever.

But a big part of me, the kid that’s still left in me, is imagining these little friends as The Littles, just a harmless, cute little family, living on our bread crumbs and having crazy adventures in our walls.

And what if our mice are little chefs like Remy?

That wouldn’t be so bad.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. November 8, 2009 11:45 pm

    I LOVE The Great Mouse Detective!!! It’s sooo one of my favorites.

  2. November 12, 2009 12:03 am

    When did you become a horror writer?

    Seriously…you just referenced at least one film that I found extremely disturbing at no less than two points. (I’d have loved it if it’d been Catatouille….)

    *Shudder*. Call an exterminator. Or a big dude with a bat. Stat.

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