Wee timerous beastie (standard:humor, 1857 words)
Author: Daffywriter	Added: May 09 2004	Views/Reads: 3395/2427	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A amn writes an explanation to his wife.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

awake by resonating with my fillings. 

Not only wasn't I sleeping, I had toothache. 

I realised I had a devious foe. Far from the gadget upsetting him, he
actually picked it up and hid it. I searched high and low, but I 
couldn't find it. 

That's what I was doing when you came home to find me in the garage with
that whippet. I figured that being a dog; it could hear the whine, 
track it down so I could take the batteries out. I know you are 
frightened of dogs; I wasn't trying to scare you. I planned to take it 
back to the guy from the pub who loaned it to me just as soon as I 
found that dammed contrivance. 

You forgave me though. That's why I love you so much. 

I have an awful admission to make. It was then that I decided that being
humane wasn't working. Gerry had some poison that Brussels banned him 
using in the pub. So he gave it to me. You went round your mother's 
house that night, so I put it out in the garage. 

I wasn't to know that you borrowed your dad's prize ferret. I know that
I hate the yellow fanged monster, but the mouse had strung him up. When 
you came in, I was in the middle of cutting him down. The ferret had 
sunk his teeth into my finger. I wasn't forcing poison down his throat. 


OK, so he was poisoned, but don't you understand? That was the mouse. 

The week of silence from you I endured was probably justified. I hadn't
slept for over a week. All those injections from the doctor made me 
feel queasy. Still, the making up was fun. Wasn't it? 

You know your mother doesn't like me. Not that I care for her that much.
I made the effort though. I invited her over fully intending to make my 
peace and show how sorry I was that the ferret passed over. 

Maybe I shouldn't have gone to the pub first. In hindsight, I realise
now that Gerry was joking. It was just that I was so vulnerable, so 
tired, and so suggestible that it seemed like a reasonable idea at the 
time. 

I was a little tipsy and she was really laying into me. After we downed
the first bottle of malt, the idea of locking your mother in the garage 
seemed to be a guarantee of frightening away the mouse. 

After the second bottle, this idea that your mother naked would probably
give the mouse a seizure sort of sprung into my head. 

For someone who lectures on the evils of drink, she can't half pack it
away. She near enough cleaned me out of hard liquor before she passed 
out. 

I reckon that I put my back out carrying her to the garage. I knew I
should have used a sack truck. Then it took over an hour get her out of 
that corset. When I did get the stays untied, it felt like an alpine 
avalanche. 

I thought it was a neighbourhood dog with its tackle caught on a barbed
wire fence that woke me. I had so much to drink that I forgot all about 
what happened the night before otherwise I wouldn't have left her there 
for you to untie. 

In my defence, I was in a very fragile state and I'm not sure of the
long term damage seeing her naked and me being sober. 

It didn't get rid of the mouse either. In fact, I think he brought a
load of friends round to join in the fun. 

Making me sleep in the garage was probably the punishment that fitted
the crime. The trouble was I got even less sleep. The mouse and his 
mates saw to that. It was around then the hallucinations started and I 
started to get a touch manic and paranoid. 

I only went to the pub to get warm and find someone who would talk to.
Not that I got much sympathy. Only Gerry seemed to take my plight 
seriously. He made everyone stop laughing at me so he could detail his 
foolproof plan. 

Well it seemed foolproof at the time. I should have read the label on
those pills you got me. If I'd known that I wasn't supposed to drink, I 
would have had orange juice instead of beer. You have to understand, 
the balance of my mind was disturbed already. The pills and the beer 
just pushed me over the edge. All logic was gone; I pissed all reason 
up the wall. 

The next day, you and the kids had gone to pick up your Mother from the
clinic. You'd made it clear I wasn't welcome. 

As soon as it got dark, I thought that I'd try out Gerry's advice about
cat imitations. 

I'd been practicing all day. Got some funny looks in the office, but
what do they know about the stress of a mouse plague? 

I crept into the garage and switched on the light. Then I remembered, if
I was going to fool the blighters, the light would be a dead give away. 
So I turned off the light and moved to my chosen spot. 

Of course, I underestimated my nemesis. Quick as a flash, he moved the
dammed humane mouse trap. Arse over Tit I went, bringing down a shelf 
of jars and bottles of all sorts of gunk as well as upsetting the 
petrol I keep for the mower. Smelt like a convention of mad chemists I 
did. 

You know Petrol burns? Even when you don't light it! When I was a
teenager, I once used petrol to clean off some oil on my jeans - then I 
wore them. By the time I got home, my leg was red raw and the rash last 
days. 

So, not being wanting that to happen again, I stripped off all my
clothes in double quick time. 

I thought about going back to the house and changing, but I reasoned
that there was no one about. I might as well get the cat impression 
thing over and done with first. With any luck, I might've got back for 
the end of the football. 

There I was on all fours, stark naked and wailing like a banshee. Those
mice were probably packing up and planning a trip to the next street. 

How was I to know that the you had persuaded your Mother-in-Law to come
round and make peace? Suddenly, mid-wail, the garage door opened. There 
was the you, your mother, your father, our kids and the man from the 
newsagents (I never did find out why he came round). 

It's real silent in the house without you and the kids. I don't blame
you for leaving. 

If you are reading this and the garage is still standing. Keep well
away. No matter what, keep out. That mouse has ruined my life and I'm 
going to take him with me. 

This plan can't fail. When he pops his whiskers out for those biscuits,
I'll let him have both barrels of the shotgun. Even if I miss, I'll 
have him. With all that petrol and solvent sloshing around the place, 
it'll just go WHOOOMF! No more mouse! 


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