Yesterday, I picked my wife up from her job at 7:30 in the morning. It was a usual Saturday, we had a nice breakfast, I got my bacon fix, and we set off to go to our Saturday gymnastics with the grandkids. Our weekly routine.
After gymnastics we were headed home so my wife could get some well deserved sleep after working all night, and we were talking about all the things we had to do to prepare for our upcoming move, when I glanced down at my leg and noticed a cute little field mouse sitting there, just chilling, taking it all in, not the least bit intimidated…. what????? I did a double take. Yup, a mouse. Looked again. Just sitting there. On my leg. And then it hit me. I’VE GOT A F**KING MOUSE ON MY LEG!!!!!
Well, dear reader… at that moment, I let out a scream only equal to me shaking hands with a black widow spider (a visual for another day). Annamarie, who was sort of half asleep was jolted into full consciousness. “Michael, what the hell is wrong with you?” I swerved as I swatted him off my leg and he flew to the floor under my feet, me wearing only flip flops, waiting to give me rabies or whatever else. She, in disbelief, tells me “You need sleep more than I do. there’s no mouse”. I swore that I wasn’t crazy, and yes there was a real live mouse in the car. She thought I was nuts. I pulled over in a residential neighborhood. Some guy and his wife were getting into their car in their driveway, and he says, “Hey, what are you doing there?” “What’s going on?” Obviously he didn’t want to leave thinking we were waiting for him to go so we could rob his house or something, and Annamarie replies, “Of we’re just having a little car trouble, we’ll be out of here in a second”. Of course I’m flinging open all the doors and trying to shoo him out from under the seat. Annamarie, by the way, still thinks I’ve lost my mind.
And then she sees him. “Oh, he’s so cute”, she says. So I’m not nuts after all. I’m trying to whisk him out of the car and the guy is getting more nervous by the minute… when finally, he climbs onto the drivers side seat and just stares at me. The mouse, not the homeowner. I grabbed my baseball cap, put it over him, and in one swift motion I slide him out of the car. He lands on the pavement, and scurries away.
The homeowner is pulling out of his driveway, giving me stink eye as we calmly close the doors, get back in the car, and drive off laughing hysterically. God only knows what he was thinking. Maybe when he gets home he’ll find a furry new houseguest.
And that…. is the mouse tale.
