Of Mice and Men

It's hard to believe that I'll be back at Northland in just two weeks. Soon, a new semester will begin, and all I can say is...it's going to be nothing like the last one's beginning. I say this because nothing could ever be like last semester's dawning. Aside from in the Deep South, you never get to (or want to) have so many random encounters with critters.

One of my first episodes last semester involved bats. I was taking a walk through the south side of my dorm, reminiscing on the shenanigans that I was involved in last year, when I see this tiny brown bat clinging to the hall wall. Somebody had decided it was a good idea to leave the door open all day, neglecting to think of the critters it could bring in. So I simply fetched a bag, gently snagged it, and let it loose outside...only to find a second bat just a few feet down the hall. This one wasn't as easy to catch, as it was more awake and flew into a room. Which resulted in me climbing over people's beds and possessions while they evacuated for the sake of this self-proclaimed exterminator. But yes, both bats were freed.

The second incident occurred once rumor spread that a rogue squirrel was roaming our own hall. Every student was intent on claiming this prize. "Wanted" posters were hung in the bathrooms with a picture of the squirrel. One student asked the dorm supervisor if there was a bounty for this squirrel. I even had a close encounter with the squirrel, but it escaped from my knife as it fled through the heating duct. Ultimately, the victor was a man named Ivan. Ivan's from the Deep South, so of course he knew how to deal with this rodent—he grabbed his mighty slingshot, took hold of a single penny, timed his breathing, and valiantly slew the beast. He took his mighty trophy to the shower stalls, proceeded to gut it, and then took it to his mead hall and feasted on its flesh while the bards composed ballads in his honor. Ivan later went on to slay more rodents that semester, such as the legendary fire breathing beaver, the venomous mole, ninja rats, zombie gophers, and Alvin and the Chipmunks.

I've had some of his stewed squirrel. Awesome stuff.

The lethal power of United States currency...

But the next animal episode stands out from the rest—mostly because I was directly involved. Another animal had broken into our hall—this doesn't happen often, to those of you concerned for us. This animal was a much more common pest than anything I've said yet—a mouse. No, it didn't breathe fire or have vampire powers or throw cheese at us, but that doesn't mean it was lame. We turned this mouse invasion into something crazy and awesome.

As I've said, a mouse was traversing our halls, and the bounty hunters were out for their prize. But this mouse was crafty and avoided them all as he scrambled through the walls, hungering for popcorn. And he found popcorn—in our room, no less. My roommate, Kenny, was the first to hear it scrambling around in the trash can, trapped by its own effort to feed. If it was up to me, the mouse would have been knifed and buried in a hole three inches wide and six inches deep. Clayton, my other roommate, instead took charge of the situation. He wanted to give that rodent the biggest swirly in history—a trip down the toilet. I still wanted to stab the mouse, though.

"Who would kill this guy?" You say just before he eats and infects your food.

On our way to the community bathroom, however, two things happened. First, we attracted attention. Several guys and rodent bounty hunters came out of their man caves to size up our capture, including the legendary Ivan (who was now known formally as Sir Ivan Pennyslinger Marvelbeard, Squirrel Bane of the North). This attention filled Clayton with glee as he paraded around this trash can with the mouse inside—the mouse he took liberty to name Hans. Ivan was actually so impressed with our capture, he gave us his blessing to dispose of this vermin. One guy volunteered to help us in our endeavor to flush the mouse. We accepted the man, whose name was Tyler, and placed him in our ranks. But, as I've said, attention wasn't the only thing we received. Another student—I believe his name is Micah—gave us a warning that mice had recently been found carrying a horrible disease around our area. I could see Tyler’s face blanch at the thought of infection. I thought that we wouldn't need to worry about disease if we just stabbed it in the trash can and dumped it outside.

Our strategy was simple. Clayton would dump our offering into the porcelain altar. Tyler would start throwing a few strips of toilet paper on top of the mouse. Clayton would quickly flush the toilet, immediately dousing the mouse, and then flush down at least ten yards of paper to make sure the mouse stayed down there. Kenny’s post was to stand at the sidelines and laugh at Hans in his final moments. I was supposed to stay away; Clayton wished the mouse to drown slowly instead of face instant and honorable death, but instead I stood close by, pocketknife in hand.

Our selected method of execution...It's more dangerous than it looks, I assure you.

Almost everything in the plan fell apart. Yes, Hans had plopped straight into the toilet, but Tyler missed as he tossed in toilet paper. Unfortunately for him, he had no time to throw any more. Clayton flushed the toilet, opening a maelstrom to swallow the mouse. Hans began swimming for the edge of the toilet, trying to jump out for the sake of his own teardrop-sized life. Unfortunately, the mouse was swimming straight in Tyler's direction. Thoughts of disease raced through Tyler's mind as the mouse approached. The Jaws theme played in the distance. Tyler squealed, sprung straight upwards, and perched on top of the handicap railing, gripping that metal bar like his life depended on it. Kenny’s laughter turned from the passing pest towards the terrified Tyler.

The current in the toilet picked up speed, whisking Hans downwards. He fought back, swimming in the opposite direction, slowing his spiral. Near the bottom, he reached the point of equilibrium: no matter how hard Hans swam, he stayed in place. There he was for several seconds. I was afraid that the flush would complete, the current would slow, and Hans would jump out and maliciously spread his disease over poor Tyler. But Hans’ strength couldn't hold. The toilet sent out its last pulse of swirling water, generating enough force to weaken the mouse. He slipped down the throat of the whirlpool with a squeak of defeat.

Our victory should have resulted in thunderous roars of achievement, but too much was already going on. Clayton proceeded to flush about one and a half rolls of toilet paper. This mouse proved to be stronger than he had reckoned, and he never wanted to mess with something that strong again. Tyler’s heart rate slowly declined as he pried his fingers and toes off the handicap bar, whispering phrases about not getting his shots and creepy Mickey Mouse cartoons. Kenny’s guffaws devolved into small hiccups of giggles. I reluctantly pocketed my knife as we marched back to our rooms, but I was glad of one thing. We had become rodent slayers. We were among that blessed count of brethren whose ranks were difficult to join. We doused the mouse.

On second thought, it would probably be pretty awesome if next semester was like the last. Who knows? I might just find an evil electricity-shooting rabbit and get to mount its head on the hood of my car.