Caught (on video)

Change of plan and an unexpected reprieve.

So, about that mouse situation...

I didn't go shopping for homicide aides like I intended yesterday morning. Instead, I watched several movies on Netflix and took a 3 hour nap before work. All day long I've been devising schemes and plotting my intruder's demise. I was very, very giddy. I spent half the day giggling - which occasionally evolved into a lunatic hysteria - and that made some people a little nervous.

"Wow. Someone's having a great day."
"You have no idea."
"I mean, you're usually enthusiastic and happy... but, today..."
"I'm practically a cartoon, I know."

After work, I went to Wal*mart being the only thing open and even remotely adequate to my purposes at 3am. I wandered the aisles looking for my toys. I purchased peanut butter and cotton balls. I did my research and most of it proclaimed that peanut butter was the absolute shit when it came to baiting mouse traps. The experts elaborated that applying it to cotton balls would entice the mouse to bite and then make it trickier for the little bastards to release in time to avoid falling prey to the trap's swift justice. How very informative and helpful. I also found some pesticides which I decided against simply because it was 3am, I looked like a member of some elite death squad having just gotten off work and making no attempt to conceal my uniform, and the two people stocking the aisle were giving me some alarming and cautionary looks.

"What? It'd be ok if I were buying rat poison at noon? Come on."

Whatever. I bought some live traps instead which was not at all the way I had wanted to go, but... a thought began to take shape and give birth to several strange ideas in the back of my mind. I entertained my glorious mind and found the results not only amusing but appealing. I crossed over to the other side of the store. I entered the pet section and surveyed my options. I could either buy an aquarium and make a makeshift habitat for the rodent or I could opt for the ridiculous PlayLand for active hamsters and gerbils. I didn't like either of these options, but I did like that PlayLand was completely encased whereas the aquarium - while its walls were nearly a foot tall and made of slippery, smooth, impossible-to-climb planes of glass - had no upper enclosure. Also, PlayLand had a little hatch which would allow me to throw things quickly and safely into the habitat like food or the creature itself. I began to see the potential of this radical idea as I placed the festive box into my cart. I also purchased bedding, food, an exercise ball, and teething pellets. I was really getting into the concept of trapping and keeping my own wild rodent pet. It wasn't something I would ever consider outside of my now very real and current situation.

I arrived home delighted at my own genius and my pending and terrible tenant transgression. If successful, I would be violating the pet policy. Although, I know for a fact some asshole in my building owns those damn pit bulls that keep roaming around and trying to intimidate everyone. I'd like to stuff one of them into an exercise ball and roll him down the hill and into traffic. I also know that someone owns that mangy feline that keeps killing all the birds and leaving their remains on my doorstep. I could also argue that I didn't intentionally acquire a pet and that I was simply making the most of a bad situation which shows not only my resourcefulness but possibly my maturity and respect for life itself.

I don't need counsel, your honor. I'll be representing myself from this point on.
I might have a fool for a client, but he's got himself one damn fine bullshitter to talk his way in and out of trouble. We'll take our chances. Also, can I get a Fresca?

Since sealing the mouse holes this morning with wire mesh plates, I have had no real idea whether I'd trapped the mouse inside or outside of the apartment. So, I arrived home to uncertainty and intrigue. I scoured the apartment looking for rodent evidence, like a very specialized and absurd branch of CSI. I found none. My hopes dissolved, I made dinner. I would continue to search for proof that my intruder still remained for about a week before returning all the accessories I had purchased for my imaginary pet. I won't even bother baiting the traps until I have found sufficient cause for doing so. I simply can not allow myself to believe it was so easy and effortless to thwart what the experts described as such a crafty and treacherous foe. But, if such is the case, so be it. I'll take my victories as I find them.

However dissatisfying as that may prove.

I don't know about the cat, but curiosity just killed you.

So it's nearly 2am and I am catching up on some brilliant television programming online because I have vowed to not do a damn thing today and after sleeping for 12 hours I'm very awake and very bored. As I watch, I notice something moving in my peripherals. When it proves to large to be merely a spider, I shift my focus to the door to my office. To be more accurate, I shift my focus to the open space beneath the closed door to my office.

It should be noted that upon my first arriving at Apartment H, I declared war on the massive spider population inside. First, I destroyed their homes. Then I sought out the survivors in every corner of every room and crushed every last one of them. I also applied repellent and poison at all possible entry points and a liberal coating around all the windows outside as well. Anything smaller than a cat coming within a foot of my apartment would die before stepping inside.

Yes, I do tend to get a little carried away sometimes when it comes to uninvited guests of the pest variety. But, although my methods cruel, extreme, and even obsessive, they are just as effective.

Time passed and my defense naturally broke down, which allowed opportunity to the worst kind of pest. Once reconstruction began on a nearby apartment building, I began to encounter a new enemy type. This one was more grotesque and cunning than the spider legion. Having eliminated their natural enemies so efficiently, I had left myself wide open to their migration and then infestation. I won't say just what these new pests were, but I will affirm that I waged war on them for several months. I developed so many tactics and methods for dealing with these creatures that I became very disturbed and lethal. I was constantly at a state of panicked and acute awareness and preparedness. You'd have thought I was fighting terrorism, which in a way I was just on a smaller, more manageable scale. Once I had determined these new enemies were eliminated, I made a truce with the spiders. I would spare each of them if they allied with me and kept our mutual enemy at bay. Since that time, I have not seen even one of those aggravating little bastards.

So, Apartment H has a new order and every one and every thing is happy. Or so it seemed, until...

So, I'm looking at the space beneath the door and a head pops out of it. Then, the whole body. The creature runs a few inches into the room before stopping suddenly and bolting back outside.

"So it begins... mouse."

I spent the next 2 hours tearing apart my living space trying to find my new guest. I was unsuccessful. I was able to locate both its point of entry and nesting area. I then vacuumed up all the mouse shit I found sprinkled so liberally in the corners and along the base boards of the living room. I also used wire mesh and plaster to cover the small hole I found in the wall behind my dryer.

Yes, I have evolved quite drastically during my time in Apartment H. I can fix things and deal with situations I would have declared impossible a few months ago. I even have a fairly respectable on-hand inventory of necessary supplies and the expertise to know how and when to use each of them.

Survival allows us to do the most extraordinary and fascinating things. Maybe this isn't exactly a matter of survival, but it is a quality of life matter and that alone is worth defending to the death.

Constant readers may already be astounded as to how unusually calm and possibly indifferent I am to my situation, especially those of you who are familiar with the Doorknob Arsenal series. Trust me, I have been fuming about this for the last several hours. But, I have battled far more complex and aggressive intruders before and I am not too concerned about this latest development. I have done some research on my adversary and I fully realize how tricky and infuriating mice can be to eliminate. But, since I am not at all concerned about the well-being or decent treatment of this rodent - I don't shit rainbows nor hug trees. - and since I am not at all opposed to turning this entire apartment into one massive network of deathtraps, I don't suppose I'm the one who should be worried right now. I am simply going to finish watching my movie and then I'll be going shopping for some... supplies. I am going to have fun with my new project. More fun than my new project is going to have, but that's to be expected.

Murder is an exclusively one-sided relationship, but it seems mockingly unselfish as it proves conclusively that it is far better to give than receive.

Captain Cut-Throat Returns.

"You better get your hands off my sweater vest before I cut you."

No one is more shocked to hear me say this than I am, but what's even more shocking is that I meant every bloody word of it. My nostrils flaring, my eyes becoming wide, nearly pupil-less, and insane. Every molecule of my sweaty, tired body about to implode and obliterate the men's department of Kohl's in the violent energy-consuming power of the black hole that had already formed in my heart. I had been searching for this exact article of clothing for nearly three hours at this point. They adorned every mannequin in every shop I entered, but they were not to be found on any shelf or rack or backroom. I had all but given up hope, but I still continued my search and now I stood in my eighth clothing store of this entirely too aggravating afternoon and this man... This man appears out of nowhere to snatch my victory right from me in my most redeeming moment of shopping hysteria with a smile and a slap to the face. This man with his firm and unwavering hair line, his smug smirk hiding a perfect set of bleached teeth, the brilliant blues of his smiling eyes - This magnificent and poor bastard was about to get hurt. Very, very badly. We were both still clutching the sweater vest between us. I had cut him off in the middle of his ridiculous sentence. It was something like.

"Oh, that's perfect. You weren't really going to buy this, were you? It would go perfectly with-"

That's when I threatened to cut him and we've been deadlocked in a silent stare down with each other ever since. Our faces have become perfect mirror images reflecting equal parts of disgust and horror like imaginary mime ping pong balls back and forth between us.

"Maybe you didn't hear me or perhaps I didn't express myself adequately. Allow me to rectify the situation." I lean in. He flinched a little. I spit vitriol as I harshly enunciate each terrible syllable in no more than a whisper into his face. "You better take your damned hands off my fucking sweater vest or so help me I will rip you apart right here and now and redecorate this place with what's left of your broken, battered corpse and paint the room a nice, new shade of you. And then, I'll take my sweater vest to the check out counter and go on with my day. So, I'll ask you again to reconsider the consequences of your actions. Is it worth it? You better be sure, because I am." I breathe deeply. I'm shaking. I am trying to regain my composure and not release my anger monkeys to go completely bat shit crazy on this man and everything within a 5 mile radius. But, I have been searching for this garment all afternoon and if this guy thinks he's just going to casually step up and rob me of it... Well, that's not going to happen. What is going to happen? Either he is going to slowly release the sweater vest, give me a terrified look of reproach, and disappear as quickly and quietly as possible OR we are going to have our own very extreme death match brawl between the hanging slacks and silk shirt racks. He very wisely chooses the first, less physical option. I sigh. Victory through testosterone and adrenaline fueled dominance is such a beautiful feeling. It feels a lot like love.

I should add that an associate of mine suggested, and then lent me, the Katt Pack to watch. Katt Williams. Very, very funny man. He swears more than I ever could, which is saying a lot since I just love sparsely accenting my work with various profanities. I had watched two of the four discs that morning. In that moment when I felt the moment slipping away from me and into the hands of that man, all of the gears in my head screeched to a halt and only my temporary cache was accessible.

Yes, I channeled the spirit of a very hostile, angry, short-statured black man. I was pimping hard and thugging it up. Although, to be honest, Katt Williams seems like a pretty laid back dude. Like me, most of the time. I guess I shouldn't blame him. It's not his fault I'm a complete lunatic and clothing nazi. That is all me. Still...

"Cracker!" I called after him. I then admired my prize. Then, the unthinkable happened. "You have to be joking. Perfect." The size indicated on the hanger was not compatible to the size on the tag sewn into the collar. Small. Small? Small! Disaster. Predictably and classic me. Very typical. I had just threatened to destroy a man over a sweater vest I could only wear if I sawed myself in half right down the center of my body. I chuckled, nervously, and hung the sweater vest back on the rack. I then made my exit from the store - possibly just missing the welcoming embrace of security personnel - and drove like a mad man until I cleared the threshold of the rage-inducing aura of the mall.

Anyway, I did manage to find suitable attire for the interviews I'll be conducting on Wednesday, minus the fabled sweater vest that simply wasn't to be. The opportunities afforded to me to dress up rather than down are so few and rare that I really wanted to make the most out of the experience. Oh well, at least I'll be able to wear a tie again. That will have to suffice.