I always loved watching Tom and Jerry as a child. I think it’s the only show where a cat got hurt and I didn’t get mad. That should have been a red flag.
Who would want to hurt a cat?
This evil creature!
Jerry is a terrorist.
He shows up (like the pest he is, or like one of your “friends”) unannounced and uninvited. He steals food. He makes life hell for Tom (most of the time for no reason). Most of the time Jerry always “won” and Tom, a pet, was kicked out of the house and one time executed.
As an adult, I feel bad for Tom.
“Why did you scream?”
In other related news, I want to get a cat. Why? There is a mouse in the house.
So last night, there I was, minding my own business when nature rang. Barefoot with an impossibly full bladder, I make my way to the restroom. I flick on the light and I see a grey blur zip past my foot.
I almost pee myself.
The thing runs into the kitchen. I run to the other room and get a boot. I love these boots but I’m about to stain them in blood. This one boot is about to have a really red bottom wachana na hizo za Cardi B.
“What’s going on?” Eve asks from the living room. (My wife’s name is Eve by the way. I realize I have never used her name on this blog.)
“Nothing!” I quickly say.
“Why did you scream?”
“I did not scream.” I’m moving the fridge at this moment. I don’t understand why it can be so heavy and so empty at the same time. The middle of the month sucks. “I yelped. There’s a difference!”
“I think that was a scream,” she says.
I want to roll my eyes but I can’t right now because I’m looking for the mouse. I need to focus. “Whatever you say, dear.”
Eve suddenly appears before me and I might have yelped again. “Whatchu looking for?”
“There’s a mouse in this kitchen.”
She makes a noise and turns into a tap dancer.
“Now that is a scream.” I have moved on to under the cooker. Eve vows not to go into the kitchen before ‘that thing is dead’. She leaves me in the kitchen and shuts the door.
A few minutes later, I find ‘that thing’ under the gas cylinder. It zips to another corner of the room and I ask Jesus just this once to grant me superpowers.
Jesus doesn’t answer that particular prayer.
I spend two hours searching for the mouse but these things are crafty. I have to get some sleep too since I would like to keep my job. This fridge won’t refill itself.
This fridge won’t refill itself.
In bed, Eve goes out like a light. How can she sleep at a time like this? (A time like this was 1 am btw). I find it difficult because I have all these thoughts in my head.
Did I really scream? That yelp might have been a little bit high. But I can’t really scream, can I? Ever since my voice broke I haven’t been able to scream. Remember? I can’t even reach that high note anymore in Mariah Carey’s ‘Without You’.
But if I did scream, why did I? A mouse is like the size of… of… a mouse. The computer mouse. I’m much much bigger than a mouse. Then again, they say that elephants are scared of mice. But I’m not an elephant. I used to be fat but I lost that weight. Still, why am I scared of that thing? I could have squashed it in five minutes but I didn’t.
Oh my God, if I’m scared of a mouse, how can I protect this family? What if this was a Taken kind of situation? A home robbery? Or worse! A nosy neighbour!
Does Eve think I’m less of a man since I failed to kill the mouse? Does she have a new title for me? Husband, love of her life, the man of her dreams, and that guy who didn’t kill that mouse?
Do I really need to go to work tomorrow?
“Stop it,” Eve whispers.
“Stop what?” I whisper back.
“Thinking about the mouse. Go to sleep.”
“Sawa.” I lie there staring into the blackness and then I realize something. “Babe.”
Eve stirs, “Yes?”
“I forgot to pee.”
In other related news, I just bought rat poison.