Of Mice... and Men?|
Copyright © 2000 Walt Zientek
Okay, first ya gotta get a historical perspective on all this. About 500 million years ago,
Well, in my family tree, some distant relative with an underdeveloped "hunting gland",
From that point on, about the only things the men in this family have hunted have been
(Segue now to the present day)
"I think there's a MOUSE in the kitchen!" I hear my wife say in a stage whisper.
I pretend I don't hear. Of course, that never works.
She tiptoes out to the living room with a look of terror on her face.
"Go see!" she commands as she gets up on the sofa and pulls her feet securely under
"SIGH!" I exclaim as I make my way.
My two, good-for-nothing cats are acting like something is under the cabinets.
"Go earn your keep!" I tell them as I open the cupboard doors.
They rush in and I go back to the TV. But not for long.
"SIGH!" I exclaim even louder as I am chased back into the hunt. Seems the wife doesn't
Well, the cats are having a ball, knocking stuff over and squeezing in behind the
"Aha!" I think. One 100 pound lab, with a natural hunting instinct and one French
They make a beeline to the far right cupboard. The one where the food is kept. And the
"Get the mouse!" I command in my strongest voice.
The lab runs to the toybox and the Frenchie grabs a pig ear. So much for all the help.
"Did you catch it?" I hear from the other room.
"Catch it?" I think. I'm supposed to "catch" it? Four natural hunters won't "catch it",
A trip to the hardware store yields enough traps to endanger the entire species. Peanut
I begin to feel that primitive gland growing in my brain.
Soon, I am mapping out my traplines. I begin to think like a mouse. I start to desire
I must be giving off pheromones like crazy, because the wife is sure looking at me
"SNAP!" I hear. "SNAP!" again. Success! The mighty hunter has prevailed and the world
Apparently, the "gathering" gland excludes "gathering" up the dead mice and I am sent
With much chest-puffing and self-confident smirking, I present the vanquished quarry.
"Ahhhhhh!" is all I hear as she runs screaming from the room.
"You "squished" the poor little things! she says.
My smirk disappears.
"You killed them," she whimpers sadly.
My chest deflates.
"Go WASH your hands!" she orders.
I feel my "gland" shrivel. SIGH.
Last modified: 8-19-2000
Page Copyright © 2000 Walt Zientek <WZW@aol.com>