Something I wrote to make myself laugh, I hope you enjoy it too. Its three parts...
Peace
As you well know, moving into a house has its advantages and disadvantages. One is that I am finally out of Busy's house and overwhelmingly excited about my new found freedom! Its like I judo-kicked all my walls down and was able to dance freely, specifically on my own floor in my own house with my own things...just picture it...me frolicking about. Sort of like Mary Poppins but without the umbrella, I don't need the bad luck. However, with a house that is not new, in fact, very old but fixed up you may have some problems, granted there were some but none I could see that couldn't be fixed. Like a doorknob or light bulb, you know the simple things.
But then, first week of living there...I felt the walls that I kicked down came tumbling down on me like when Tom & Jerry get the fighting and Tom throw some shit up in the air to land on Jerry...but Jerry's smart ass moves and it all comes tumbling down on Tom...yeah, I'm Tom. So... I walk over to the back door to throw a piece of trash and in the corner of my eye, behind the refridgerator there is a trapped mouse, it's on that sticky mouse trap, sure they were around the house but I thought they were there as precaution not that there were actual mice in the house!
Oh lawd! The terror! It was lifeless on that thing from the split second it took for me to look at it and sprint to the living room, stradle the living room sofa like a trained track star and cry and whimper like a baby. I know what your thinking...its dead, it can't hurt you. Yes, I realize that. But, I am deathly afraid of mice. Sure, I can have a snake around my neck, sit on the head of an alligator, jump off a cliff in Jamaica without a second thought. Its something about those beaty eyes and the sneaky quickness that makes my skin crawl. In desperation, I call my father. "Hey daddy." (In my saddest scared voice.) "Hey Booksie." (Yes, thats my nickname) "Dad...there is a mouse on a sticky trap in here, what do I do? I'm terrified." "Danielle, all you have to do is first, calm down. The damn thing aint gonna hurt you. Its dead. Second, get a plastic bag and get a glove, pick it up..put it in the bag and dump it." "Dad, I don't think I can do it, just looking at makes me cry!" "Well, I hope you don't think Imma drop what I'm doing...just to put a dead mouse in the trash."
And there goes all hope. I have to be brave and fight this thing head on. I decide to be brave and face my fears. I go upstairs, change my clothes throw on some gloves put my hair up, get a plastic bag and proceed to the back door. I want to unlock it so that I can just run out once I've placed the abomination in the plastic coffin.
Jumping up and down..I hype myself up. Scream out a battle cry ARGHHHARHAHRHRH....clap my hands! Breath deep. clap my hands some more. I stand in my livingroom...doing this for about 15 to 20 minutes. I can do this...I can do this as I shake my head opposing the words coming from my mouth. I push my legs to move to the back door. Plastic bag in hand and I open the back door, turn to look at the mouse to pick it up...JESUS CHRIST!!! ITS MOVING! DEAR GOD...I CAN'T DO THIS! I CAN'T DO THIS. Clapping my hands to deter from the mouse's incessant cries, jumping up and down from sheer terror, I run upstairs...
After hyperventalating for 15min in my bedroom. I call my landlord. The guys that are coming to fix the bath tub will be here later. They can pick it up and toss it. I think I'll just stay upstairs til then.
Later on, after the mouse has been thrown out and I am free from terror. Amber calls, "Hey big sis." I can hear the giggles in her voice. "Hey lil girl." "Daddy told me everything...ahahahahahhahahaha." My father can't keep anything to himself. My mom is in the back ground screaming..."stop Amber, stop....I'mma pee on myself."
That is only part one of the war on mice saga. To be continued....
Peace
As you well know, moving into a house has its advantages and disadvantages. One is that I am finally out of Busy's house and overwhelmingly excited about my new found freedom! Its like I judo-kicked all my walls down and was able to dance freely, specifically on my own floor in my own house with my own things...just picture it...me frolicking about. Sort of like Mary Poppins but without the umbrella, I don't need the bad luck. However, with a house that is not new, in fact, very old but fixed up you may have some problems, granted there were some but none I could see that couldn't be fixed. Like a doorknob or light bulb, you know the simple things.
But then, first week of living there...I felt the walls that I kicked down came tumbling down on me like when Tom & Jerry get the fighting and Tom throw some shit up in the air to land on Jerry...but Jerry's smart ass moves and it all comes tumbling down on Tom...yeah, I'm Tom. So... I walk over to the back door to throw a piece of trash and in the corner of my eye, behind the refridgerator there is a trapped mouse, it's on that sticky mouse trap, sure they were around the house but I thought they were there as precaution not that there were actual mice in the house!
Oh lawd! The terror! It was lifeless on that thing from the split second it took for me to look at it and sprint to the living room, stradle the living room sofa like a trained track star and cry and whimper like a baby. I know what your thinking...its dead, it can't hurt you. Yes, I realize that. But, I am deathly afraid of mice. Sure, I can have a snake around my neck, sit on the head of an alligator, jump off a cliff in Jamaica without a second thought. Its something about those beaty eyes and the sneaky quickness that makes my skin crawl. In desperation, I call my father. "Hey daddy." (In my saddest scared voice.) "Hey Booksie." (Yes, thats my nickname) "Dad...there is a mouse on a sticky trap in here, what do I do? I'm terrified." "Danielle, all you have to do is first, calm down. The damn thing aint gonna hurt you. Its dead. Second, get a plastic bag and get a glove, pick it up..put it in the bag and dump it." "Dad, I don't think I can do it, just looking at makes me cry!" "Well, I hope you don't think Imma drop what I'm doing...just to put a dead mouse in the trash."
And there goes all hope. I have to be brave and fight this thing head on. I decide to be brave and face my fears. I go upstairs, change my clothes throw on some gloves put my hair up, get a plastic bag and proceed to the back door. I want to unlock it so that I can just run out once I've placed the abomination in the plastic coffin.
Jumping up and down..I hype myself up. Scream out a battle cry ARGHHHARHAHRHRH....clap my hands! Breath deep. clap my hands some more. I stand in my livingroom...doing this for about 15 to 20 minutes. I can do this...I can do this as I shake my head opposing the words coming from my mouth. I push my legs to move to the back door. Plastic bag in hand and I open the back door, turn to look at the mouse to pick it up...JESUS CHRIST!!! ITS MOVING! DEAR GOD...I CAN'T DO THIS! I CAN'T DO THIS. Clapping my hands to deter from the mouse's incessant cries, jumping up and down from sheer terror, I run upstairs...
After hyperventalating for 15min in my bedroom. I call my landlord. The guys that are coming to fix the bath tub will be here later. They can pick it up and toss it. I think I'll just stay upstairs til then.
Later on, after the mouse has been thrown out and I am free from terror. Amber calls, "Hey big sis." I can hear the giggles in her voice. "Hey lil girl." "Daddy told me everything...ahahahahahhahahaha." My father can't keep anything to himself. My mom is in the back ground screaming..."stop Amber, stop....I'mma pee on myself."
That is only part one of the war on mice saga. To be continued....
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