July 30, 2001
Babysitterus furrius and Other Stories
by Joshua Carden
WARNING: THOSE WHO SUFFER FROM MUSOPHOBIA (FEAR OF MICE) WOULD BE WELL-ADVISED TO AVOID THIS COLUMN. THIS INCLUDES ALL ELEPHANTS, WHO SHOULDN'T BE ON THE COMPUTER ANYWAY.
In my best Hitchcock impression (which isn't too bad):
"Good evening. Tonight's column is made up of delicious bits of rodential reading sure to cause you to recoil in disgust and horror and possibly even go purchase a cat. So make a plate of cheese and crackers, pour a bowl of milk for the cat, and settle back for a dose of furry fun. That is, if you can endure a word from our sponsor."
Ahh, the Master of Suspense. Right before they made him, they broke the mold.
Most people are not big fans of mice. How does the saying go? "Build a better mousetrap and the world will beat a path to the door of patent office to steal the idea from you." Something like that. Perhaps I have been in law school too long. My family has had three especially memorable experiences with mice. One old, one recent, and one somewhere in between.
Episode #1 - That Babysitter!
During our first years in the country, Jason and I were babysat by a young high school girl who lived across the street. She was nice and didn't beat us or anything, but she fit the stereotypical babysitter, um, stereotype. She would talk on the phone a lot, take my parents up on the offer to "help herself to the fridge," and generally treat us like the little kids we didn't want to admit we were. But she was the only babysitter that lived close and so my parents used her services when they needed to go out. Now, my family always had this big bowl of mixed nuts (uncracked) sitting near the fireplace. It was a great snack to pass around whenever we had company over, or if we were watching a ball game or something. We'd sit there with a nutcracker and newspaper to catch the hulls and munch away. Well, my parents began to find these nuts down in between the pillows of our sectional sofa. They asked us if we had spilled nuts down there. We truthfully replied that we hadn't. They asked if we had ever seen the babysitter eat nuts. We truthfully replied that we had. They shook their heads, and said "that babysitter!" It began to be a routine. She'd babysit, they'd check the couch, and find more nuts: "that babysitter." Well, one night, we were going to play a board game as a family. We went to the game cabinet next to the sofa and as we opened the door, a CASCADE of nuts came pouring out. Big ones, small ones, cracked ones, shells, etc. Along with the nuts, a little mouse had built a nest right between Sorry and Risk. We all laughed and laughed, and whenever we found a cache of nuts we'd yell "that babysitter!" I don't remember if we ever told the girl what we thought she had done, but I'm sure she got a nice tip the next time she babysat.
Episode #2 - Mafia Mice
A while after the babysitter incident, we had a veritable mouse invasion. It was like having the rodent version of the Beatles performing in our attic eight days a week. Tickets must have been going for peanuts. ("That babysitter!") So we bought mousetraps and set them all over the house. I mean you had to have a marked mousetrap map and a compass to get through the house without losing a toe. Getting up in the middle of the night to get a drink of water in the dark was out of the question. The only problem was: we weren't catching any mice! We tried cheese as bait, we tried peanut butter, we tried candy, we tried Streisand tickets, we tried everything! Finally, we were out of the typical mouse-catching substances. We were putting away the food after dinner one night when one of us (I honestly forget who) suggested as a joke that we try mom's leftover lasagna. That night we caught three mice. We averaged about a mouse a night for the next week or so until word got around. We have yet to find a substance that works better. Who woulda guessed that-a mice-a like-a the Italian food? We just made them an offer they couldn't refuse. Mama mia!
Episode #3 - Cinnamon Roll Roulette
Jason came home from a work trip with the most recent encounter. Not quite awake, he emerged from the on-site RV where he was staying and sat at the picnic table sipping coffee. The wife of a co-worker emerged from the trailer next door dropped a tray of cinnamon rolls in front of him and sleepily announced "We had a visitor last night." Jason isn't the most talkative guy before coffee takes effect and he grunted something unintelligible as she returned to the trailer. He reached for a cinnamon roll, contemplating the morning's work and the inside of his eyelids at the same time. As he munched, the lady returned outside. She stopped short: "Jason, please don't tell me you're eating those!" He looked around to see her pale face. "I told you we had a visitor last night: I found a mouse in those cinnamon rolls! I was getting a trash bag to throw them away." Jason, definitely a little grossed out, and certainly more awake, nevertheless retained the infamous Carden wit. He stopped chewing and looked down at the cinnamon roll in mock horror: "You mean, those weren't raisins?!?!?" The lady gets out of therapy next month.
All right, you know the drill. Send me the good stories, and watch for your rodent-related tail, er, tale to appear!