Here I Come To Ruin The Day

I was in bed by 1230am after my gig, a relatively early time due to the fact that I just traveled back to LA and my body is still on east coast time. I read some blogs online and right before I flipped off my reading light a tiny spider crawled across my pillow and onto my hand. My jerking reaction flipped the spider onto my laptop. He then sprinted towards the edge of my bed where I ended his life with a size 10 1/2 left-footed Nike. Despite the chills on my arm, I was so tired I was able to talk myself into attempting to sleep. I turned off the remaining light and Cheddar, my almost 11 year old orange and white cat, jumped up on the bed, then slowly crawled onto my chest for a kiss-for-pets trade. He laid there on my chest purring until all of the sudden he sprang off the bed. I heard him in the pitch dark running frantically around my room, his claws lightly scratching the hardwood floor. I dismissed it at first as a burst of playful energy after a day of deep naps. After another minute, he didn't settle so I turned my reading light back on and caught the glimpse of a silhouette scurry along the wall. Cheddar alternately jumped up on the bed and down to the floor several times in lion-mode, pupils wide open, obviously trying to corner some sort of prey.

I left the room to grab my flyswatter I bought when I moved in, but had yet to use. I planned on killing the previous spider's spouse or worse yet, a curious roach. By now Cheddar was shoving his nose behind my night table so I assumed the role of his sidekick and shifted the table out from the wall for him. The silhouette scurried back under the bed.

"That's a little bigger than a roach... What the fuck is that?", I thought.

As I stood in a Barry Bonds stance, I gently pulled the bed out from the wall. And Cheddar pounced! Twisting, spinning and batting, he lead a klutzy assault against a scared shitless grey mouse which then jumped onto the side of my mattress clinging for dear life like a rock climber. It was then I did what any self-respecting grown man would do...

"CLAAAYYYY!", I called to my Craigs List-found roommate. "THERE'S A FUCKING MOUSE IN MY FUCKING ROOM! ...OR A RAT!".

Clay, shirtlessly sprang from his desk chair and asked "A mouse or a RAT?".

"A mouse and/or a rat..."

"Well, if its just a mouse, then you don't need to worry. How big was it?".

I showed the length of the mouserat with my index fingers, almost exactly the size of the catnip-stuffed practice mouse I bought Cheddar a few months ago. While the words "just a mouse" incredulously tumbled around my head, Cheddar was chaotically cornering and scheming and stalking Mickey, ducking under the bed then back on top for a higher vantage point. I grabbed a box from the living room and handed it to Clay, then stood outside the room with a full grip on my useless flyswatter. Clay identified the silhouette as "definitely just a mouse" and informed me how much more scared the mouse was of me than I was of it, as if he were some sort of rodent mind reader.

"Well, whatever it is, can you get it out of my bedroom?".

Clay tactfully forced the mouse behind my night table again and then asked me to lift it up.

No mouse.

"Check the drawers," Clay suggested. No Mouse.

"Remove your pillows and comforters,". Flashlight under the bed, quick check of the closets, back to the night table.

Mouseless.

I thought I saw Cheddar smack his forehead, like a TV police chief might when his small town deputies lose a criminal in an alleyway foot chase. Clay guessed that Jerry found a small hole in the wall, maybe his initial entrance point, and made his escape, a theory that would make total sense if there were any fucking holes in my wall.

Clay went back to his room and said, "Yell for me if you see him again".

"Oh I will..."

Cheddar continued to search for his lost chance to redeem some feline dignity that has slowly been stripped over 11 years of domestication. Knowing I wouldn't likely be able to fall asleep tonight, at least not in my room with David Copperfieldmouse, I began dusting, sweeping and cleaning my room. I figured should our visitor come back, maybe he'd be so impressed with his tidied up surroundings, I could catch him off guard, scoop him in the box and put him back outdoors.

So now its 245am. My room is neat, my cat is freaked, my skin is itchy and I'm still awake and completely unfazed by the dead roach I found lying on its back beneath my speakers.







dick.