Thursday, 3 April 2014


I am scared.
There is a mouse, or possibly two mice, currently living in my house. That I know of.

My first verminous encounter occurred three days ago. While I was seated upon my toilet, lost in incongruously profound thought, I realised that beneath my mental ramblings I could hear rustling from the corner of the room.

Is it compacted plastic packaging expanding slowly and audibly? Maybe. Or could it be left over bubbles bursting slowly in the bath from earlier? Possibly. But it could also be an animal. I'm scared. I know! If I just ignore it, it'll go away, right? Right.

Not right. Two days ago I returned to the bathroom. I had business to take care of and that took precedence over thoughts of pretty much everything else, including Jet Li (the mouse). My gaze was unfocused as I resumed that paradoxically super conscious but perceptively hindered state. Amongst the visual white blur there was suddenly grey. My focus resumed. He stared up at me with his taunting black Jet Li eyes. I was no concern of his. It was almost as if he could sense my fear and helplessness. He ran nonchalantly into the wooden structure housing the immersion tank which has been out of use for a while. I'm pretty sure he's been living there since. And because of this I haven't urinated much over the past few days.

Three hours ago I was either introduced to a new mouse or Jet Li has found his way to where I sleep. I woke up about three hours earlier than usual to a familiar rustling somewhere in my vicinity. At first I thought I was crazy. Or maybe that my lack of sleep was inducing hallucination. I moved my ear gently against my pillow and as I did so produced a noise which I believed came from what at the time I thought was a psychologically constructed mouse. I moved suddenly from that comfortable waking up position and sat forward looking back suspiciously at my pillows. I summoned more bravery than I probably ever will again and lifted the pillows to find nothing. I moved backwards, feeling foolish. I heard the rustling again. I hoped optimistically that what I was hearing was a moth or something. It was not. I noticed something move on the floor behind my curtain. I still chose not to accept the presence of Jet Li/a new mouse. Until I could actually see the mouse and for longer than a fleeting second he was not there. When he was, he was couchant at the base of my TV. Mocking me and my inability to distinguish him from other mice. Then he ran from view again.

Nobody will help me. Or believe me. Because it's April and last year I spent the whole of April making April Fools jokes instead of just the first day (this year I've decided to invent 'Maypril Fools' in order to further exploit the element of surprise).

I have sourced traps and they have been set in my bedroom. It feels wrong that I am killing another living creature for the sake of my comfort and convenience. But like most people I'm too lazy to make any humane efforts in this regard. And I don't care enough about establishing a false persona of ethics and morals for other people to do anything else about it either.

My greatest concerns right now include eventually having to dispose of the body, that Jet Li might still be out there somewhere and that there's still presently risk of a mouse walking around on my face while I sleep.


The mouse in my bedroom is dead. Whether or not he was in fact Jet Li is still unknown. 

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