Mouse in the House
I don’t think I can write anything right now because I just got back from a strange house I was working in and it was traumatic. There was a mouse running around in the bedroom….his name was not Mickey. I checked. Twice I heard rustling from a hole in the kitchen wall. I’m sure it was just a rabid badger. That’s fun to say out loud, try it, I’ll wait right here….see? Anyway I think there’s something in my shoe but I’m afraid to check. Speaking of which I always take my shoes off in houses I go to but when I did this my socks stuck to the floor. I put my shoes back on, got in my car and drove way back in time (and I didn’t even use a DeLorean, turns out you can do it in a Pinto. Remember those? Oh and what about the GMC Gremlin? So ugly! Sorry, back to the story..) to get those old boots….‘Goulashes’ they called them. You put them on OVER your shoes in the Winter and they have those weird buckles and when you take them off one of your shoes gets stuck in it and Sister Mary Angelena has to come out to the hall and try to pry it out but she’s too old and her fingers smell like sand and she tells you you’re holding up the class and you’re going to have to stay after school and you’re thinking ‘I’m not holding up anything Sand Fingers, now get my shoe out my goulash old Nun!’ So finally one of those younger Women (younger, not young) who works at the school but isn’t a Nun and is dressed in normal clothes comes by….I think she’s a teacher but why is she in a Catholic school…..and she pulls your shoe out and then you have a crush on her cause you’re only in 3rdgrade and while she was kneeling to help you, you could see a tiny bit of the bottom of her slip. Um…The End. Wait, I forgot the best part! Then for lunch that day at school, I think we had Goulash! So the moral of the story is, most mice probably don’t have names.
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