For a mouse

Really,
you could have lived in my kitchen all year.

A cute little mouse in my kitchen...
who cares?
As long as you keep hidden, afraid of loud noises.
Then i don't have to acknowledge
that you really exist.

I would tell Jana,
"i think we have a mouse, but i've never seen him"
then i would go back to my computer, tv, beer, coffee shop
life as i know it.

Instead,
i'm at the Blokker (think Bartell Drugs)
looking for mouse traps.

All because
that little mouse had to strut his stuff.
Hello!?!?! I'm in the ROOM! Looking at you!!
RUN YOU LITTLE COCKY MOUSE!
I stomp my feet.
he's too busy to care about me.

Ooooohhhh you're gonna pay for THAT little mouse!!
I look around for something to throw.
I grab a stack of business cards in a zip lock bag.
Hummm, maybe if I bundle this stack of business cards together
really, really tight... i twist the bag and make a little business card brick,
what the hell am i thinking?!
Is this how a metro sexual tries to kill a mouse? with business cards!?

Back at home now.
mouse traps armed with peanut butter.

It's been (look at watch) 19 minutes...

honestly, i expected to catch a mouse by now... I bet within an hour I'll get one.