What finally drug me kicking and screaming from my self-imposed blogging hiatus? A tale of heroism, bravery, self-sacrifice and the strength of the human spirit. This morning, at approximately 8:03AM i slayed a mouse.
Let me set the scene: I staggered into the kitchen wiping the sleep from my eyes when i first encountered the great beast. It looked up at me with it's empty black eyes and i was reminded of Robert Shaw's soliloquy from Jaws. I'll paraphrase:
And, you know, the thing about a mouse... he's got lifeless eyes. Black eyes. Like a doll's eyes. When he comes at ya, doesn't seem to be living... until he bites ya, and those black eyes roll over white and then... ah then you hear that terrible high-pitched screamin'. The ocean turns red, and despite all the poundin' and the hollerin', they all come in and they... rip you to pieces.
So i knew, it was my family or the mouse.
Thinking quickly, i asked my wife to hand me something to kill something with. BA great hunter in her own right, my lovely bride handed me the instrument that would employed to send this mouse to the deepest depths of hell via our trash can. The weapon: a single Rainbow flip-flop.
I knew i only had one shot. I knew if i missed or just winged him, he would surely take out my throat in a vicious array of gnashing teeth and curled tails. So i took aim and let loose the sandal.
As far as i know, i have no Aboriginal ancestors, but if i did, they surely would be proud this day. The flip flop, like a majestic boomerang, struck the animal with such force and accuracy that it died upon impact.
The mouse lay before me dead. I finally exhaled. The job was done. My family was safe.
