straight killa

before we begin...

visual aid #1:

(straight killa)

visual aid #2:

(straight killed)

Henry is the best dog in the world.  Right now I am sitting on my couch in peace for the first time in months.  For the first time in months, I'm not afraid that dangling my toes off the end will leave me with bloody nibbled nubs.  I'm not afraid that letting the kitchen go unattended will leave me with chocolate sprinkle poop chocolate sprinkled all over my food.  I'm not afraid of...anything.  I'M NOT AFRAID ANYMORE!!!

Wanna hear the story?  O(ld) K(inderhook), great:

Last night, Brendan and I heard the mouse scurrying around in the kitchen.  Not "a" mouse - "THE" mouse.  We had a mouse problem earlier in the year, and successfully captured four of this little fucker's brethren and sistren and released them outside.  But this guy was totally the smartest mouse who ever lived - and he's been evading us for MONTHS.

But the time had come.  Brendan and I looked at each other and said, in unison (as if preordained by jesus or krishna), "Fuck this."  "We're not gonna take it anymore."

We rushed into the kitchen.  "I'm gonna kill it I'm gonna kill it I'm just gonna KILL it," said Brendan, grabbing a swiffer.  I reached for a broom.  "...me too."  Henry sharpened his teeth.

We have a recycling pile in the corner of our kitchen.  It's NOT a trash pile.  We're good people, not dirty ones.  And that's where the mouse was - in our good-people-recycling-pile.  This was the final straw.  Had he no respect for the earth???  Somerville has a strict policy against chocolate sprinkle poop'd recycling.  They won't take it, under any circumstances.  The little jerk might as well drive a Hummer - and I mean a full-sized one, not a cute little mousey replica.

 

I started picking up boxes, hesitantly searching through each one.  I didn't want to end up with bloody nibbled nubs, remember?

Finally, we found the right one.  And our story could end here, but this was no ordinary mouse.  He leapt from the box, scurrying for his safe haven of assholery and destruction under the oven.  Brendan attacked, bringing down the swiffer with force enough to break it.  And that's what happened.  But that didn't stop him - he kept attacking, stabbing at our nemesis with the deheaded tool of cleaning and death.  The frenzied look in his eyes convinced me that he should never have children.  And that from now on, I would be locking my doors at night.

 

Finally, I corralled the mouse away from the oven - but the sneaky little bastard scurried under the refrigerator before we could catch him.

I crept around the side, trying to pinpoint the mouse's location so we could strategically plan our next move.  But the mouse had no intentions of waiting.  He bolted from under the refrigerator...like a fool.

 

A damn fool.

Henry pounced.  With speed making lightning look like that fat kid in gym class that you always felt bad for making fun of.  With the strength of a thousand men, if men were gods.  Pat pat pat SNAP and it was over.  Our nemesis hung lifeless in Henry's jaws, blood dripping to the floor.

And there was much celebration.  There was screaming and dancing and high-fiving.  And for Henry, there was string cheese.  Glorious glorious string cheese.