Arman, the Vermin Slayer

Some of you dear readers may remember when yours truly had an issue with a certain furry roommate.

Well, it seems it didn't warn its brethren before it kicked the bucket. I had yet another one of those little fuckers running around the house in the past couple of weeks. I've finally figured out why too. You see, I don't have pets. Everyone else in my building has a cat or maybe a dog or two running around to keep these bastards at bay. Me? I have a couple of stuffed animals and cute furniture.

I don't keep food out and my apartment stays relatively clean at all times, but that doesn't guarantee a pest free environment. Apparently.

This one was a little tricky. He had managed to break free from one glue trap already and I assumed he had learned his lesson since I no longer saw trails of cereal or english muffins scattered about. So, there I was watching tv in my bedroom when i heard a series of taps. I take a peek into the kitchen and yup, there he was trying to wiggle himself free from the second glue trap.

Motherfucker.

I calmly walked into my office and took the liner out of my Ikea trash can. I took it into the kitchen and placed it upside down over the mouse and its new glue trap appendage. Yeah, did he really start climbing all over it like one of those motorcyclists in the metal cage at the circus? I mean, he was f'n hyper. I was so convinced he would eventually break free that I actually put a heavy box of promotional Deborah CDs on top of it.

He was so energetic that I couldn't do much else but talk shit and text/call friends. Now, I love my friends, but they were completely useless.

Following is a list of advice and/or commentary from the nearest and dearest:

-Kick it. (This was vetoed immediately because it meant I may inadvertently touch the filthy creature.)
-Drown it in a trash can. (Ok, all of my trash cans are metal mesh - stylish and cute I might add. I was then ridiculed for having good taste.)
-Put it in the freezer. (Are you f'n kidding me? There's frozen yogurt and a Boston Market Pot Pie in there - no ma'am.)
-Aww, poor mousey. (Seriously?)
-LOL (from a total of at least three people)

Since the glue traps had advertised an anesthetic component to them, I figured it would eventually knock the fucker out so I could dump his unconscious ass into a trash can and throw him away. And, two hours later, he was still flying around the upside down Ikea trash can.

I ripped an old month from my desk calendar and slid it underneath the trash can. He got even more excited and started lapping around even faster. I then folded the excess of the paper upwards and duct taped it into place. If he broke out of that shit, I would have fed the motherfucker table scraps until it died of natural causes. Or a coronary - which ever came first.

I then took a Hefty cinch sak and dropped the entire thing inside. Hey, it may be cute and stylish (the trash can) but it's still from Ikea and I can justify another five dollars for a new one. I tossed it in the outside trash can along with the rest of the trash inside my house. What happens to "the poor mousey" is no longer my concern. He's out of the house and I did it without killing it on the spot - my karma is free and clear.

AND, I managed to get rid of it without risking my frozen yogurt, accidentally touching it or having it slip away from the glue trap by adding water. "LOL" that, bitches.