dys·func·tion /dɪsˈfʌŋkʃən/ [dis-fuhngk-shuhn]–noun
1. Medicine/Medical . malfunctioning, as of an organ or structure of the body. 2. any malfunctioning part or element: the dysfunctions of the country's economy. 3. Sociology . a consequence of a social practice or behavior pattern that undermines the stability of a social system.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

I Kicked A Mouse

Yepp. The awesomeness of that post title? Pure fact.

Remember Drizzle? You may remember my furry little house mouse from: Magical Mouse Fairy, one line in Fruity Whirls, and his namesake posts Super Drizzle and Super Drizzle Returns.

He met with his end when faced with a rat trap (much bigger than a mouse trap) which attempted to sever a limb, and then he dragged himself back into his mouse hole.

We haven't seen whisker or tail of him since. That was months ago.

A week ago we met our newest addition: Zipper!



Now, I'm no expert on mice, but I'm fairly confident that this is not Drizzle, they look similar, but I see differences. Also, Zipper is much faster than Drizzle was, and he is significantly less cocky.

What I like to think happened was that Drizzle dragged his mangled body home, and his wife and children nursed him back to health. His disability prevents him from leaving the home to forage for food, so he trained his children (specifically Zipper) in the way of the ninja, so that with the speed and stealth of a ninja he will be able to provide food for the whole family.

"You are learning well, Grasshopper."



Last night there was a massive thunderstorm. After I sat at the window in the dark watching the thunder, lightning, and pouring rain for a while; I decided to use the washroom and crawl into bed. I left the light out and relied on my night vision and knowledge of toilet location for my pre-bed-pee. I took two steps inside the washroom and kicked something small and soft.

"WTF?!? Was that a mouse?!" I thought, and hastily turned on the light. My inspection of the bathmat showed Splat's hairbrush as the only item on the ground. Sitting on the toilet I thought to myself how odd it was that the hairbrush felt so soft and full of innards when I kicked it, when lo and behold Zipper raced across the room at speeds unimaginable, came within 12 inches of my feet, zipped under the cabinet, behind the sink, and (I'm assuming) entered the area behind the vent to return to his house.

"JESUS HOLY F%*&ING KRIES ZIPPER!!!" I yelled, "You scared the ever-loving sh#% out of me!! Argh!"

Then I tried to calm down enough to sleep, and managed to hear him 'talking' to another mouse.


O_o


"And I was cleaning myself and this crazy b#$%^ walked right in and KICKED ME! Can you believe that?"

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