theknittingwizard-blog - Tumblr blog

theknittingwizard-blog · 8 years ago

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Thank you, you darling, sweet, understanding, beautiful little cannibal shark, you. I did consider an illustrated version:

As you can see, this is clearly just a small crack in the panelling of my sink cabinet, most likely caused by water dripping down the sink or perhaps my own foolishness bumping into the cabinet in my foolish college state.

Some unusual facts about mice

I’ve caught 5 mice in my bathroom in the last month and have learned some interesting things about the little creatures that I thought you might find intriguing, my dear @thenoodlesqueen @thedisappointedidealist12 and @unsurprisinglycannibalshark

Our story begins with our hero, my landlord, whose kenning shall be FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER heretofore. FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER was a good and just landlord. He did not waste his time with trifles like replacing the 12-year-old mattresses or the suspiciously stained couch or the broken vertical blinds or the strange smells coming from the food disposal. No, instead FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER chose a more pressing problem to address: removing and replacing the entire microwave oven with a new one because part of the handle had broken off. FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER only wanted the best for his tenants, my roommate whom we shall call ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART SOCIAL WORK MAJOR, and myself (the one bitching on tumblr at 1am about how fucking hard it is being a white first-world college student in an off-campus apartment her parents are mostly paying for) whom we shall aptly call FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT.

Now that we have introduced our cast of characters, I shall begin the epic. (ARMA VIRUMQUE CANO and all that lovely other muse-invoking shit.)

FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER arrived at his feudal lands (my shitty apartment complex) bright and early one Saturday morning at about 9am. FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT was somewhat perturbed to be awakened from her melatonin-tablet-induced slumber by the serene sounds of FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER violently blasting the apartment walls with his mighty powerwasher, but she eventually dragged her lazy ass out of bed and had a healthy breakfast of reheated pizza (using the aforementioned new microwave) while watching Sherlock on Netflix. She didn’t really need to sleep in anyway, FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER was on an important mission to beautify the apartment, after all. When it came time for FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER to powerwash the inside of FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT’s patio (if you don’t mind defining “patio” as a 10 by 5 foot rectangular area surrounded by a mouldering fence and completely shaded by the second floor’s “patio” so that the vile sun never touches the impeccable concrete), FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER knocked on FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT’s door and marched out onto her patio, opened the sliding door, and powerwashed the absolute shit out of that patio so thoroughly that mysterious puddles were later found on FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT’s floor. (Remember that he opened the sliding door. This will become a crucial plot point later on in our epic tale.)

A week went by and all was well in the feudal lands. Until one fateful day when FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT was sitting on her toilet doing what one typically does while sitting on a toilet. She squinted her sans-glasses eyes at a strange creature scurrying towards her from along the sliding door to the patio. Was it an… oddly grey roach? Some type of fuzzy…HOLYFUCKINGFUCKETYFUCKTHATSAFUCKINGMOUSEMOTHERFUCKINGFLYINGFUCKERY.

FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT did not remain on the toilet for very long after this epiphany and proceeded to freak the actual fUcK out as foolish college students are wont to do. She barricaded that fucking bathroom door and then she had to go to class. When FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT was released from the corrupt higher education drudgery commonly known as “class,” she journeyed straight to HEB (aka Texas wal-mart) and bought a fuckton of snaptraps and glue traps and “mouse attractant gel,” which the label said was better than peanut butter for scientific fucking reasons. (She also bought some Oreos and milk, but that is not relevant to our epic tale.)

FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT laid her traps all over the bathroom floor and then shut the door and curled up in bed to read fanfiction while she waited for her nemesis to meet his demise. Her efforts were rewarded at 12:30am when terrified squeaking began emanating from the bathroom. What then followed was an argument between ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART SOCIAL WORK MAJOR and FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT wherein ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART SOCIAL WORK MAJOR refused to lend FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT her hammer to violently bludgeon the mouse out of its terrified, squeaking misery. This argument ended with FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT dropping the glue trap with the completely helpless, spread-eagled-on-the-glue-trap mouse into the big trash can by the curb outside where the mouse probably slowly starved to death or was finally, mercifully squished eight hours later when the garbage was picked up the next morning.

FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT felt utterly victorious, despite the mouse’s inhumane and deplorable fate. She had caught the mouse! Her troubles were no more! But this was not to be.

A week later when FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT came back from Easter break, a pungent mouse carcass greeted her in a glue trap in her bathroom. Three days after that she heard a trap snap at 1:30am (while on the toilet again) and got to experience the joy of smashing a helpless mouse to death with a brick in the wee hours of the morning. And again at 9:30am the same day! Woe to FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT. Who would help her in her time of need? FUCKING WHO??? The Doctor? Sherlock? The Winchesters? No! Someone mightier than even the tumblr fandom trifecta!! You know his name!!

Our FUCKING hero received a text (you see my obligatory Sherlock comparison now, ofc) from FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT imploring him to help her. Since FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER was not a high-functioning sociopath or a Time Lord or otherwise occupied trying to help his brother un-unleash the latest unstoppable supernatural force, he pledged to “definitely take care of it” that weekend. FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT informed him that she and her roommate would both be gone that weekend (she was going to visit her family or some other foolish venture) but expressed her undying gratitude to FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER.

Come Sunday night, FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT had just driven down from Dallas. It was 9pm. She just couldn’t wait to relax now that the mice had been dealt wi— FUCKING LIVE MOUSE STUCK TO A GLUE TRAP GETTING GLUE ALL OVER THE FUCKING FLOOR WHERE IS MY GODDAMN BRICK.

FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT was so confused. Hadn’t FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER “definitely taken care of” the mice? It seemed not. These mice must be far greater foes than the Daleks or Moriarty or God’s friggin sister. FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT texted FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER. Then she went to bed. Dejected.

A few days later, FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER deigned to text her again. There was a buyer for the apartment! Praise be to Castiel in his coat on that stained-glass window (seriously, that was fucking stupid, Cas, you can’t be GOD) But you know who CAN?! FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER who hath commanded FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT to “remove the mice traps” [sic] since “we know for a fact this is not a recurring issue, thank you for your cooperation! :)”

Whaaaaaat? But- but I caught a- NO.

FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT was fucking confused. She’s a foolish college student, what the fuck does she know? There aren’t anymore MICE.

Here is what actually happened: The Gospel According to FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER, thanks be to God – I mean Cas – I mean TO FEARLESS FUCKING MOUSESLAYER

The “one small mouse” obviously got in when FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER was powerwashing the patio and opened that pesky ol’ sliding door (I told you it was an important plot point). Because you know mice! When they hear a loud noise, they don’t run away from it or freeze from fear, nooooooo, they run towaaaaaards the loud, scary noise and iiiiiiinto the strange, unfamiliar environment of FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT’s apartment where they have DEFINITELY never been before. And THEN when this “one small mouse” definitely entered through the patio while water was being blasted against the walls outside, there just HAPPENED to be a hole chewed into the cabinet under FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT’s bathroom sink. “How fucking convenient!” thought the one small mouse. “What a perfect place to have my little babies!” “Whaaaat?” you might be thinking “but why would the mouse—” SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND THE INNER MACHINATIONS OF THE RODENT MIND LIKE FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER DOES.

But it’s okaaaaay because all the mice are totally and completely and indisputably GONE now. You see, FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER checked the hole on Saturday and now “there are no more left inside the hole” But… but FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT found a mouse in the bathroom on Sunday so even if FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER didn’t see any on Saturday – WRONG! WRONG! WRONG! (Does it mildly annoy anyone else that that was a Sherlock quote from ASiP in 2010 but now it’s primarily associated with the fucking orange overlord? No? Just me, FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT all alone with my foolish college opinions? Okay…)

“But FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER,” FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT implored, “I think there are still mice. Look, I have a picture of a mouse from Sunday—”

“NO, FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT, THE MICE TRAPS [sic] MUST NOT BE VISIBLE FOR THE INSPECTION SINCE WE KNOW FOR A FACT THIS IS NOT A RECURRING ISSUE. REMOVE THEM.”

“But isn’t that deceptive because they buyer kinda has the right to know the property has a mouse prob–”

“HAD A MOUSE PROBLEM. IT’S ALL RESOLVED NOW. THERE ARE NO MICE. DON’T TALK OUT LOUD, YOU LOWER THE IQ OF THE ENTIRE STREET.”

“That doesn’t even make s-”

“NO FUCKING MICE!!”

So you see, my friends, I, FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT, had some simple misconceptions about mice. Let us correct them: 1) mice like to run toward loud noises, not away from them. 2) mice only have 4 babies to a litter (Wikipedia is fucking wrong) 3) if the bait is gone from your mousetrap, it was probably just a bug 4) that isn’t mouse shit on your kitchen mat, those are chocolate fucking sprinkles and the most important, 5) the best way to resolve issues with your intransigent landlord is to type a wayyyy overly detailed fucking tumblr post at (it is now 2:52am, I did tell you I was foolish) and burden the internet with your whiny, privileged, and overall un-fucking-wanted opinions because you’re moving out of this apartment in a week and will be back to university fucking housing in the fall and you really, REALLY could not give a single fuck anymore unless an actual mouse crawled over your blanket and up your shirt to your hand and bit the thumb you’ve been using to type all this FUCKING WHINING BITCHING BULLSHIT but that’s okay, that won’t happen because there AREN’T ANY FUCKING MICE! MICE DON’T EVEN EXIST, THEY’RE JUST COMMUNIST PROPAGANDA!!!

Dear ACTUAL God.

#MICE DO NOT EXIST

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theknittingwizard-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Some unusual facts about mice

I’ve caught 5 mice in my bathroom in the last month and have learned some interesting facts about the little creatures that I thought you might find intriguing, my dear @thenoodlesqueen @thedisappointedidealist12 and @unsurprisinglycannibalshark

Our story begins with our hero, my landlord, whose kenning shall be FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER heretofore. FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER was a good and just landlord. He did not waste his time with trifles like replacing the 12-year-old mattresses or the suspiciously stained couch or the broken vertical blinds or the strange smells coming from the food disposal. No, instead FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER chose a more pressing problem to address: removing and replacing the entire microwave oven with a new one because part of the handle had broken off. FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER only wanted the best for his tenants, my roommate whom we shall call ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART SOCIAL WORK MAJOR, and myself (the one bitching on tumblr at 1am about how fucking hard it is being a white first-world college student living in an off-campus apartment her parents are paying for) whom we shall aptly call FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT.

Now that we have introduced our cast of characters, I shall begin the epic. (ARMA VIRUMQUE CANO and all that lovely other muse-invoking shit.)

A week went by and all was well in the feudal lands. Until one fateful day when FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT was sitting on her toilet doing what one typically does while sitting on a toilet. She squinted her sans-glasses eyes at a strange creature scurrying towards her. Was it an… oddly grey roach? Some type of fuzzy...HOLYFUCKINGFUCKETYFUCKTHATSAFUCKINGMOUSEMOTHERFUCKINGFLYINGFUCKERY.

FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT felt utterly victorious, despite the mouse’s inhumane and deplorable fate. She had caught the mouse! Her troubles were no more! But this was not to be.

Whaaaaaat? But- but I caught a- NO.

FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT was fucking confused. She’s a foolish college student, what the fuck does she know? There aren’t anymore MICE. Here is what actually happened: The Gospel According to FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER, thanks be to God – I mean Cas – I mean TO FEARLESS FUCKING MOUSESLAYER

"Whaaaat?” you might be thinking “but why would the mouse—” SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND THE INNER MACHINATIONS OF THE RODENT MIND LIKE FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER DOES.

"But FEARLESS MOUSESLAYER,” FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT implored, “I think there are still mice. Look, I have a picture of a mouse from Sunday—”

"NO, FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT, THE MICE TRAPS [sic] MUST NOT BE VISIBLE FOR THE INSPECTION SINCE WE KNOW FOR A FACT THIS IS NOT A RECURRING ISSUE. REMOVE THEM.”

"But isn’t that deceptive because the buyer kinda has the right to know the property has a mouse prob–”

"HAD A MOUSE PROBLEM. IT’S ALL RESOLVED NOW. THERE ARE NO MICE. DON’T TALK OUT LOUD, YOU LOWER THE IQ OF THE ENTIRE STREET.”

"That doesn’t even make s-”

"NO FUCKING MICE!!”

So you see, my friends, I, FOOLISH COLLEGE STUDENT, had some simple misconceptions about mice. Let us correct them: 1) mice run toward loud noises, not away from them. 2) mice only have 4 babies to a litter (Wikipedia is fucking wrong) 3) if the bait is gone from your mousetrap, it was probably just a bug 4) that isn’t mouse shit on your kitchen mat, those are chocolate fucking sprinkles And the most important, 5) the best way to resolve issues with your intransigent landlord is to type a wayyyy overly detailed fucking tumblr post at (it is now 2:52am, I did tell you I was foolish) and burden the internet with your whiny, privileged, and overall un-fucking-wanted opinions because you’re moving out of this apartment in a week and will be back to university fucking housing in the fall and you really, REALLY could not give a single fuck anymore unless an actual mouse crawled over your blanket and up your shirt to your hand and bit the thumb you’ve been using to type all this FUCKING WHINING BITCHING BULLSHIT but that’s okay, that won’t happen, because there AREN’T ANY FUCKING MICE! MICE DON’T EVEN EXIST, THEY’RE JUST COMMUNIST PROPAGANDA!!!

Dear ACTUAL God.

#I had way too much fucking fun with that

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