Life happens: 'Twas the month before Christmas
By By Aprill Brandon
Dec. 6, 2012 at 6:06 a.m.
Updated Dec. 9, 2012 at 6:09 a.m.
'Twas a month before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, except for my husband (who was hunting a mouse).
The traps were all placed in the kitchen with care
In the hopes that a dead rodent soon would be there.
I was nestled all snug and a li'l drunk in my bed
While visions of sexy fun times danced in my head.
But Ryan in his PJ's, armed with those silly traps
Refused to stop till he won against those rats.
When suddenly, BOOM! There arose such a clatter
I fell (gracefully) out of bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the kitchen I stumbled all lady-like.
Cause sweatpants are always classy, am I right?
Through the haze of perhaps a bit too much wine
I looked around to find that husband of mine.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But him laying on the floor, on his face a big sneer.
"I found him, babe! I have him caught under here!"
He declared, so happy his victory was so near.
But alas, the poor man was about to lose face
Because soon a half-dozen more took its place.
Now, look here Mighty! And you too, Minnie and Mickey!
And don't think I forgot you, the Brain and Pinky!
You guys are all over, coming out of the walls
And I want to bash your stupid heads, bash away them all.
Get the heck outta my house, you mutant moles
You rejects of nature, you hamsters without souls.
You've invaded our home for much, much too long
And the way you've invaded our life is just so wrong
Because it's the same thing every single night
The scurrying and pawing happening just out of sight
And us laying in bed, seething at the thought
Of the havoc and ickiness you have wrought.
And trust me, no lie, I used to feel bad for you
Buying humane traps and making much ado
About how your stupid little lives mattered too.
A decision I would quickly come to rue
Because your eyes! How evil and so beady!
Your tails, ugh, so gross! Your motives how seedy!
Your stupid little mouths and your need to pee
Not to mention poop on every surface I can see.
Thanks to you jerks, I now compulsively clean
A habit, now, I don't think I'll ever ween.
Going to Lady MacBeth lengths, until I've bloody hands
While you laugh and mock and take over the land.
But while you have won the battles thus far
We'll win the war, and rule like demonic czars
Turning our house into a Mecca of death
Hunting you down like addicts looking for meth.
Cause while you may have evaded all our tricks
Never taking the bait and getting your kicks
From outsmarting us and making us look daft.
Live it up because, trust me, we'll have the last laugh.
So forget poison and those glue traps as well
Because our next idea is downright next to swell.
And I don't think I'm lying when I say you'll be quite smitten
With the fact I'm going out and adopting a litter of kittens.
Aprill Brandon is a columnist for the Advocate. Her column runs every two weeks in the Your Life section. Comment on this story at VictoriaAdvocate.com.