Mike Sinkovich Tells You How It Is

Mice 2 Mike 2: Vengeance

Last night I was dosing in that crazy half-asleep-half-awake state where you can feel your mind slipping into sleep and your dreams are just surreal thought patterns, for about two hours. During this time I thought I heard a loud 'crack' from downstairs, but figured it was my mouse orientated, murderous intentions playing tricks on my mind so I drifted back into dreams of laughing manically whilst hosing the kitchen down with a flame thrower. What's the matter Hannibal? I thought you liked grilled cheese, mwooohahahahaha.

Anyway, I came downstairs this morning and found a note from my flatmate in reply to the one I left out warning of possible rodent corpse on kitchen floor (2/3 of my house's occupants are female and knowing the ultrasonic pitches a frightened female can achieve, I wanted a nice lie-in. And anyone thinking of jokes insinuating I form one of those 2/3 of females, do me a favour, close this page, throw water on your pc and punch yourself in the balls).
Anyway, the note was regarding a dead mouse in the kitchen....a small victory dance ensued...before I poked my head round the door to confirm the kill. Yes, yes, fucking yes. Mike is back in the game.
Oooh so close to the peanut butter paradise, but this time Hannibal got sloppy. My tactic of sticking the bait to the bait bucket worked, he just couldn't resist going for that 3 -1 score and it cost him dearly. On further inspection Hannibal had done a lot better than Kinder on this one, his mouth was actually on the peanut butter, giving him one last taste of the nutter before that yellow bar came down to ruin his shit.

That makes me feel better somehow.

Anyway, that's another grave for the garden, tying the score at 2 all.

Mice 2 Mike 1: The battle has begun

I used to live in a real hole of a house. Massive fungus in the toilet bigger than your head. No central heating just those evil 1960's "I might wake up dead" gas fires and shit everywhere. We cleaned that house so many times and it just never looked better. But I never saw a mouse.

Now I live in a sweet, central heated, nice little cosy dutch-style house and apparently the mice dig it too. The little fuckers came in over Christmas when everyone was off seeing family and ate through all the potatoes, pasta, cereal and chocolate they could find. Two mouse-traps, a bit of chocolate and one shallow grave later and I'm feeling a bit better about the whole thing, and since "the great bleaching" of everything in the kitchen there has been no sign of the little bastards since.

When I went to buy mouse-traps I couldn't find them in the giant crap house that is Wilkinson's, so I asked one of the staff who showed me to the rat poison. Close love, you're on the right lines but I need something a bit more.....hmm how should I put this....snap? Mice don't tend to walk out into the middle of the floor and die when poisoned sugarpants, and as I'm sure you would just love to sip your morning tea with the stench of putrid rodent flesh sifting up your nose, I would prefer more visual confirmation of a kill...

"but these are so much more humane"

...humane? I hope that at some point you are given the choice of having your head smashed to bits at the speed of sound or lying in a dark corner, whimpering as the feeling of your internal organs bleeding into their surrounding tissue is only surpassed by the high pitched ringing in your ears as your brain hemorrhages for half an hour. At least with traps the last thing the fuckers will think is "oh fucking sweet man, chocolate!" rather than "my head....it's....implodinnnnggggaarrrrrrhhhhhh".

But even after I took Kinder down (I named him after the chocolate with a surprise due to the expression on his tiny little face) and figured they would get the message that Mike doesn't take kindly to rodents stealing his food, the thieving little fuckers are back. I was putting a new bin liner in when the cheeky sod legged it across the floor and hid under the freezer.
Muttering dark words of encouragement to my new contender I placed my second trap down in front of the freezer with a nice big piece of oh-so-sweet chocolate in the bait bucket and returned to the sofa to await the warming sound of my snap-tastic victory. When I checked the trap just now, the chocolate had gone and I was left with a mocking, un-sprung trap.

They're evolving.

This one is clearly smarter than Kinder so I have named him Hannibal, but the only thing that is coming together for this guy is him and his suddenly violent death. Cue evil echo-y effect.....mwoohahahahahaha.