Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

The constant plague of bits of torn up paper and miniscule droppings of blackened turd have arrived with a fury. Our humble home has been invaded by a mouse that we have decided to name “Morty”. At night he scatters out from dark corners and from underneath sofas to attack the poor, booze-weakened hearts of every houseguest we’ve had so far. Thom and I are running out of options, b/c, not to put too fine a point on it, but the mouse is a fucking genius. We’ve tried glue traps. He either pushes them out of the way or goes around them. We tried poison that we mixed in with peanut butter. The intelligent little cunt ate around the poison, and continued to consume the peanut butter. We are afraid to smash it with something heavy b/c then one or the other of us will have to dispose of its squashed remains and I doubt either of us (one being a girl, the other being a nancy boy) is up to the task. However, our desperation grows at the idea that the entire winter (which we, like all normal woodland creatures) will undoubtedly spend sheltered indoors, is going to be shared w/an unwanted roommate that doesn’t cough up his share of the rent.

Thom and I walk down the hallways yelling ourselves a clear path to the bathroom or the fridge at night. “Morty! You better get out of the way!” My country-bumpkin love of walking about the house barefoot has been sucked out of me for fear that my toes will be attacked by small rodents. In fact the last time I wore a pair of flip-flops to the fridge at night, he ran over my foot and caused me to have not one, not two, but 7 simultaneous heart attacks. Needless to say I have not worn flip-flops at night from that day to this. Though I suppose I was never very interested in wearing flip-flops beforehand, but now the very idea of wearing them terrifies me. Even in my own house where I used them as house-shoes, I am afraid to leave them on my feet. It’s maddening. The other night Thom went into the kitchen to reheat some of the cake we took from mom’s house and broke the plate he was going to use when he saw our horrible houseguest running across the countertop. He spent 15 minutes wiping a small, 25 inch space and spraying it with so much disinfectant you could smell it in the living room.

The atmosphere is getting tense. Very tense. The tiny, meddlesome creature has us jumping at shadows, pieces of lint, and stray bits of cloth. The other night I was on the couch and Thom saw my toes peeking out from under the blanket. He got a look of horror in his eyes before realizing it was only my feet, and straightening up from the crouch position of attack he had taken seconds before. The house has never been more spotless. It is almost too clean. People come over and there is nothing but bare space. The invasion of this mouse has turned our home into a mental institution… and I think it is going to have to come to us breaking down and going broke on an exterminator. One more month of this and Thom and I’ll have to kill each other out of pity. “You do me first.” “No you do ME first.” “No you do me!” “Alright, at the same time.” Someone help us. We are loosing our grip and we are way too poor for an exterminator. There has to be another out. Anyone got any particularly vicious stray cats in their neighborhood?

sorry izzy... I guess the palm tree and the cactus that are my actual pets won't help you too much... no cats... dingo and pulqui were good at that but one is dead since too much years and the other is blind. Sure you'll find a hungry smart cat!! (argg...only the remote possibility of a mouse at home leads me to the most medieval fears, funny the way you told the whole thing!!).

Oh I know what to do!

Treat it with kindness! Love it and fuss it and pet it and coddle it and coo coo to it and feed it and make it a cosy little cot and see to it that it gets plenty of beauty rest and then, and this is key, make sure your clod-hoppy human feet don't accidentally crush it.

Oh, and make sure you give it a little nightly peck on it's little mousey cheek when tucking it in for beddy-byes, they love that, they'll never shit in your cereal again...trust me on this.

In short...

always love your meeces to pieces.

failing that, I've found that copious amounts of poisonous mouse seed positioned about the place conspiciously will usually have the desired effect. When in doubt poison the miters...they can't resist that lovely, tastey seed. And the nice part is that after they've partaken of their last meal it makes them powerful thirsty and they scurry off from whence they came in search of a beverage to slake their thirst and then it's "ashes to ashes and dust to dust" for the little critter and you never have to see or think of them again...

YOU KILLING MURDEROUS SWINE!

or...

you might want to consider adoption. All the best people are doing that now. I heard Angelina and Brad are even considering it.


I really enjoyed reading this Izzy. You weave a marvelous tail and you made me titter. Oh, and just between you and me, I hate mice...creepy little bastards!

“ever wonder why they call it Jib?” she asks. Thinking she is schooling me.

“because if you do it long enough you only talk gibberish?”

“yah.”

Geoff Parsons





Just talking jib here
“a bowl of oatmeal just tried to stare me down and won” JP paraphrased

Poison not a good idea if you ask me which you didn’t
But I was raised on the smell of dead rats with maggots
The cute little critters go off to die and rot in some little hidy hole you wont ever find.

Be the Cro-Magnon killers that you are
Just do it, mousetrap them. Remove the corpse with a prayer to the great mouse mother for taking a life. Then dumb it in the dumpster.


Two of the most dangerous women on studio eight on the same thread, you know I could not sit on my hands.

show time

sorry Argentina make that three women.

Yeah cats work, pretty good, but a wharf rat can kill a cat anyday.

You need a good dog for rats.

Poor Juan, why do the keep digging him up?

This is his third burial since his death.

You all been in he news lately

Trying to hold to one post a day cause my eyes are shot, painful impact of photons on optic nervsed almost exquisite.

I had an appointment with a dietician yesterday to see about my diet. Attractive woman my eyes scanning her office for signs of husband and children, notice sparkle on finger of left hand I think, did not look like engagement ring, silver ring no stone. So you know being the vain pecker head that I am i mention being an asjpiring writer for thirty years, she ask what do i write about? I say family, memoir, stuff like that. I think I might have better said, "What do I write about" Women and children.

That bit about dangerous women is a paraphrase of Freud's description of Lou Salome, "a woman of dangerous intellect"

this is going to be a pretty ephermeral post I think.

Dear sock-puppet-wagger and old friend:

Like other posts of yours you tend to deprecate, the one above is flecked with little literary diamonds.

I fell in love with the woman who was arranging my retirement.

You'd think a guy of sixty would know better, and I had even observed this woman in retirement "seminars" for years and never tumbled.

The woman ( let's call her Jane-- not her real name-- neither is "Doe") was suddenly palpably THERE across the desk, talking and breathing and I was watching the dents on her fingernails-- listening carefully to the way her nylons buzzed a little at the knees-- the textured tan plasto-fabric rubbing together-- and the way she walked, so very female, and that voice-- sure of itself-- office slave but not imperious, just a little smear of tangerine lipstick at the left corner of the smile, a micro-wisp of it on her left incisor.

Jane could chew a pencil eraser and conjure an erotic dream with those little bites, that damp tongue-shove.

Microsoft smile, corporate surrender and yes-- pictures of Dad and the kids behind on the walnet-framed porta-gallery over the sole filing cabinet.

God bless bureaucrat infatuation, and Yahweh preserve us from acting on those impulses.

I love your posts above.

--Z

High Honor Herr Professor
thanks for the flowers
Yes Hester had it rough
I have worn many scarlet letters
But no more
jimbo knows the story of the nurse pacticioner who gave me such an erotic blood pressure check that my arm was stiff for a week. Hysterical Paralysis ...

it is a negatory romance for me
just my shitty karma
but that woman in ____________
she was single
I should have reciprocated
She had a back ache
And I did not lift a hand to touch her pain
"dang me they ought to take a rope and "

"Poor Juan, why do the keep digging him up?" ADN, the Egipto factor, power, nostalgy, confusion, ignorance, a good reason for pogo, who knows?.
I saw the images yesterday and I heard the 1973 analogies and someone saying " the first time is always tragedy, the second comedy..." if that mess would be only these...!.
It seems we are passing a death/cadaver/missing period, again...

See:

"Santa Evita" Tomas Eloy Martinez

http://www.pagina12.com.ar/diario/elpai ... 10-18.html

http://www.pagina12.com.ar/diario/elpai ... 10-18.html

Today a father's kid (who knows that I'm not peronista) told me his militant story since he was twelve and also told me that he want to bring her 9 year daughter for the Evita's translado. Well,...

(sorry izzy again... it's not the place for this but I'm a bit tired about the theme to open a new thread for it).

Sorry Izzy I get so easly distracted by a pretty face.

but the mouse is a fucking genius

Yes I knew a super intelligent mouse, too. My admiration grew for him so much that I decided to just treat him like a pet. But one night as I was sitting and reading I looked down and he was sitting on my foot, looking up at me in adoration. Then he moved his family in, and I started finding mouse droppings everywhere, but when I found mouse droppings in my silver ware drawer I had to get cold blooded. Mice are so hard to house break.

Those glue traps are not a good death for a mouse, starvation. Peanut butter did not work cause he just licked it off, I finally bought some good firm cheese but still soft enough to stick to the release lever, so he had to pull hard enough to trip the trigger of the trap.. I gave him a good last meal. It was very sad though. First to go was his mate and the kids, they not being as wordly wise as him, maybe he just got so depressed over his loss that he just gave up and took the bait. Joined them in mousey heaven.

sorry for the ramble.

Izzy -

I'll loan you my cat, Mingus. He's a mass murderer. He'll not only get rid of your pesky mice, he'll get rid of the squirrels nesting in your eaves, too. Unfortunately, he's also a big fan of murdering birds and will manage to clear a few out of the trees, but hey, at least the mouse will be gone. Can't have everything.

I love how half the replies in this post seem to have absolutely nothing to do with the actual post itself.

D, thanks for offering your cat. As I have a disdain for the flock of pigeons near our house, and am not too personally attached to the other variaties of birds inhabiting nearby trees, I should think there'd be no harm done. Overnight this cat to me at once.

ST, we hate this mouse. He is our arch nemesis. W/that said, then it is obviously not the aching hearts we have that keep us from buying a mouse trap, it is the weak stomachs, and overall pansy-behavorial traits that reside in us both. We SO do not want to see a dead mouse smooshed on a spring-trap.

Arcadia... thanks for your good intentions. I'll just have to commandeer one of the flea-ridden cats that dwell in the alleyways and hope that it's parasitical infestation doesn't spread to us as he rids our home of rodents.

Mousey... you know it's our secret and ours alone. As for this mouse, well... I suppose I am about to become murderous swine, b/c he is driving me mad. My squeamishness is going to have to take a backseat so that I can preserve what little is left of my sanity.

don't buy them cheap four for a dollar mouse traps. Get a good one. Instaneous death, I get compulsive about picking up the deer departed, plastic bag in hand, rubber gloves on, eyes almost closed, in the bag and gone.

You are going to have lots of new pets if you don't move quick. They are very fruitful and multiply fast.

I waited too long and had to wipe out an entire family, I tell ya the blood lust was on me.

I had my own Scoresesse movie going.

"... I get compulsive about picking up the deer departed, plastic bag in hand, rubber gloves on, eyes almost closed, in the bag and gone.": puajj...I could do that with a bat some years ago, but I think I'm not able to that with a rat/rat. If I were you I would save money for an exterminator, izzy...!

rat/rat

oh okay
I thought it was a mouse

You need rat traps then,

oh yes stoned again, day off work, here I am bablling again

For some reason I am reminded of a movie called After Hours. Terri Garr character's bedroom in Manhattan. Her bed surrounded by hundreds of rat traps. She playing Chelsea Morning joni mitchell to cheer herself up.

I knew I smelled a rat.

I know... a lexico peculiarity: we never use the word ratones when we need to exterminate them from somewhere, we use the word RATS, no matter the size of them (maybe it sounds more dramatic!).