I backed my truck out of the shed and took it out of gear. Then I looked out through the windshield. Said, “Well, what do we have here?”
A mouse was sitting on my wiper, plain as he could be. His beady eyes looked straight ahead. I think he winked at me.
I gasped and yelled, “Get out of here you hairy, little rat.” I looked around and grumbled, “Where the heck is that darn cat?”
The little varmint scurried off, back underneath somewhere. I pulled the latch and raised the hood. That mouse was gone, I swear.
I thought my problem solved itself, then looked up on the dash. I counted twenty-five mouse turds. I swept them the trash.
From a mouse’s point of view, my Chevy’s full of treats. I had to stop him now or there’d be mouse holes in the seats.
So I put two mouse traps on the floor and baited them with cheese. I knew I’d catch that mouse today. It was going to be a breeze.
Next time I looked, the bait still there, and mouse turds on the mats. Maybe he was worried about his saturated fats.
I took away the cheddar cheese and baited it with bread. I hoped it wouldn’t be too long before that mouse was dead.
I had almost left the shed when I thought I heard a snap. I opened up the pickup door. That mouse was in my trap.
Well it seems a piece of cheddar isn’t what a mouse likes best. Or maybe he was finicky. For sure, he’s one dead pest.
I sure taught that mouse a lesson? In this life there’s no free lunch. But I guess he learned a little late. That mouse sure felt the crunch.
So to every mouse that’s out there, maybe headed for my truck. “You better think it over, ‘cuz for sure you’ll have bad luck.”