Yesterday, I forgot to close my apartment’s front door when leaving for school. Unfortunately this allowed a certain mouse, who happened to be passing by, to infiltrate our humble abode. At first, things went well and the critter was able to establish a temporary military base in the living room. However, before it could carry out further tactical operations, my mom observed the enemy from its first vantage point in the toy basket. Chaos ensued. My mom, armed with my little brother’s toy robotic armatron in one hand and a wide variety of floor wipers and spatulae in the other, launched a campaign against the rodent.
For the next few hours the house became a battlefield. Crashes, bangs, screams and war-cries echoed in the air. Every single piece of furniture was displaced. Although my mom, with her domestic weapons, ruthless tactics and natural hatred for mice, was a force to be reckoned with, she was no match for the deceptive strategy of the experienced rodent. Ultimately my mom had to temporarily declare cease-fire.
The rodent made its second appearance the next day while my mom was using the washing machine. Apparently the rodent had taken shelter in the pipe of the washing machine and was now back for another battle. My mom put up a good fight but the mouse, now aware of its opponent’s strategy, had become even better at guerrilla warfare. The second battle ended sooner than the first one, with the rodent emerging victorious.
Personally, I feel sorry for the poor guy. All it wants is to live in our house. I suggest we create a secular residential system in which men and mice can both live in peace and harmony, respecting their differences and elevating their similarities. The somewhat cliche quote, “Are we men, or are we mice?”, should be banned since it offends both parties.
Note: Although I was strongly tempted to name this post, ‘A Mouse in the House’, I think the present title is more appropriate.