Today (yesterday to you people) I hopped in my truck to head to work as usual and something very odd happened.
I happened to look down and an apple that I had placed in the passenger seat yesterday was somehow laying on the floorboard. Nothing too odd...yet.
I should preface this with the fact that I never park my truck in the garage with the windows down for security purposes. Never, that was, until last night.
Anyway, I looked down at said apple and noticed that some of it had been eaten. Did Amy take a bite of my apple and leave it in my truck? Doubtful, given that the only apple that ever touches her mouth is apple flavor No. 7 infused into vodka and mixed into an Appletini.
So...upon further investigation via quick glances from road to floorboard at 55mph I see that tiny shavings of apple skin have been cast aside and have curled up like 30 or 40 little red toenails. Keep in mind that our back yard abuts a conservation area replete with every kind of mammal, insect, and arachnid you can think of. My only thought is that a rat somehow got into the garage and made his way into my truck for his shiny, red, aromatic bounty.
I am now, as a 220 pound, 32 year-old male, slightly panicked on US19 at rush hour.
Is there a rat in my 4runner? I don't know...
Is he rabid? I don't know.
I read AND fucking saw Cujo as a kid and I know what happened to that fucking dog.
So...I did what any adult male would do - I called my Mom. She alluded to the fact that I'm a pussy and said, "I wouldn't be as worried about it as you are..."
Careless bitch.
I get to work, clear out anything that could harbor small vermin, and find also my emergency - I'm hypoglycemic - Chex Mix bag, which has been chewed into, but no rat.
I work, go back home, roll up my windows, park my truck, eat dinner, and I get cleaned up to go spin. I head to the garage to take off, open the driver's side door, and see a T shirt on a hanger hung in my passenger-side rear window kind of billow a bit. I pass this off as mere air pressure from opening my door. Just as I sit, Amy opens the hall door that accesses the garage to tell me something before I leave and I feel something run into my calf at full speed from under the driver's seat.
I'm a grown-ass man, but I high stepped like Deon 'Prime Time' Mother Fucking Sanders out of that truck squealing like a little girl that got a booger flicked on her by the kid in school that smells like hot garbage.
OK - this fucking sucks.
I opened all 4 doors and took a broom stick to try and ramrod his ass out the opposite side, but he was nowhere to be seen.
I took Amy's car to my gig.
Now...Amy has this friggin' 'Have a Heart' trap from back in the day that allows you to trap the little fuckers and keep them for display without injuring/killing them, but she won't let me set it in the garage, because she doesn't want it to get caught and make racket while she's home alone...with two 90 pound dogs, mind you.
So...
I just got home from 'work'. I went into the garage and heard a small ruckus. ("Could you describe the ruckus, sir?" - obligatory Breakfast Club reference...)
Game fucking on, cocksucker.
Now my fat ass is in the kitchen trying to reverse engineer this fucking trap because I have no idea how it works.
Amy earlier had asked where I would release our little friend if I was lucky enough to ensare him.
"Release him? I'm going to fucking kill him."
"Noooooo..."
"Honey, he was in my truck."
"You can drop him off at the animal shelter. Maybe in a box or something outside."
"Are you serious? Honey, I'm not into killing animals, but this dude has crossed some boundaries."
I pointed out her family's hunting and fishing trips thus giving her no choice but to agree.
I had a discussion at 'work' tonight with my buddy Casey about what to do and he said a nice submersion in water would be ok. Yes, I think that would be just fine by me. I wouldn't even have to remove him from the cage until he was still. I did tell Amy I was going to pour gasoline on him and light him, but that's just fucking sick. I was kidding, honey...that was my balls talking. She suggested purchasing a BB gun and doing him execution style. Maybe I'll get a paring knife and give him a Colombian Necktie.
Anyway...the trap is in the garage...the rat is in the garage...the apple is in the trap.
I hope to have some tasty updates for you people tomorrow.
I happened to look down and an apple that I had placed in the passenger seat yesterday was somehow laying on the floorboard. Nothing too odd...yet.
I should preface this with the fact that I never park my truck in the garage with the windows down for security purposes. Never, that was, until last night.
Anyway, I looked down at said apple and noticed that some of it had been eaten. Did Amy take a bite of my apple and leave it in my truck? Doubtful, given that the only apple that ever touches her mouth is apple flavor No. 7 infused into vodka and mixed into an Appletini.
So...upon further investigation via quick glances from road to floorboard at 55mph I see that tiny shavings of apple skin have been cast aside and have curled up like 30 or 40 little red toenails. Keep in mind that our back yard abuts a conservation area replete with every kind of mammal, insect, and arachnid you can think of. My only thought is that a rat somehow got into the garage and made his way into my truck for his shiny, red, aromatic bounty.
I am now, as a 220 pound, 32 year-old male, slightly panicked on US19 at rush hour.
Is there a rat in my 4runner? I don't know...
Is he rabid? I don't know.
I read AND fucking saw Cujo as a kid and I know what happened to that fucking dog.
So...I did what any adult male would do - I called my Mom. She alluded to the fact that I'm a pussy and said, "I wouldn't be as worried about it as you are..."
Careless bitch.
I get to work, clear out anything that could harbor small vermin, and find also my emergency - I'm hypoglycemic - Chex Mix bag, which has been chewed into, but no rat.
I work, go back home, roll up my windows, park my truck, eat dinner, and I get cleaned up to go spin. I head to the garage to take off, open the driver's side door, and see a T shirt on a hanger hung in my passenger-side rear window kind of billow a bit. I pass this off as mere air pressure from opening my door. Just as I sit, Amy opens the hall door that accesses the garage to tell me something before I leave and I feel something run into my calf at full speed from under the driver's seat.
I'm a grown-ass man, but I high stepped like Deon 'Prime Time' Mother Fucking Sanders out of that truck squealing like a little girl that got a booger flicked on her by the kid in school that smells like hot garbage.
OK - this fucking sucks.
I opened all 4 doors and took a broom stick to try and ramrod his ass out the opposite side, but he was nowhere to be seen.
I took Amy's car to my gig.
Now...Amy has this friggin' 'Have a Heart' trap from back in the day that allows you to trap the little fuckers and keep them for display without injuring/killing them, but she won't let me set it in the garage, because she doesn't want it to get caught and make racket while she's home alone...with two 90 pound dogs, mind you.
So...
I just got home from 'work'. I went into the garage and heard a small ruckus. ("Could you describe the ruckus, sir?" - obligatory Breakfast Club reference...)
Game fucking on, cocksucker.
Now my fat ass is in the kitchen trying to reverse engineer this fucking trap because I have no idea how it works.
Amy earlier had asked where I would release our little friend if I was lucky enough to ensare him.
"Release him? I'm going to fucking kill him."
"Noooooo..."
"Honey, he was in my truck."
"You can drop him off at the animal shelter. Maybe in a box or something outside."
"Are you serious? Honey, I'm not into killing animals, but this dude has crossed some boundaries."
I pointed out her family's hunting and fishing trips thus giving her no choice but to agree.
I had a discussion at 'work' tonight with my buddy Casey about what to do and he said a nice submersion in water would be ok. Yes, I think that would be just fine by me. I wouldn't even have to remove him from the cage until he was still. I did tell Amy I was going to pour gasoline on him and light him, but that's just fucking sick. I was kidding, honey...that was my balls talking. She suggested purchasing a BB gun and doing him execution style. Maybe I'll get a paring knife and give him a Colombian Necktie.
Anyway...the trap is in the garage...the rat is in the garage...the apple is in the trap.
I hope to have some tasty updates for you people tomorrow.