YIKES! MICE!

By gailrunschke

110 29 60

A true mouse story More

Untitled Part 2

110 29 60
By gailrunschke

YIKES! MICE!

I smelled a RAT

Well . . . it wasn’t really a rat

And . . . it doesn’t matter 

Very much about that

But . . . it looked like a rat

Except rats are fatter.

The fact was: it was in our house

And it really was a MOUSE.

Well . . . it wasn’t really in our house

It was actually in the garage

And it happened

When I was with Marj.

We’d been for our walk.

We go on a Friday,

Our favorite weekday.

We love to talk.

We’d enjoyed that day

When she came my way.

We’d hurried our walk,

Enjoyed the fresh air.

We’d had a good talk.

The wind blew our hair.

Her cheeks were rosy.

She is very fair.

We entered the house 

Straight through the garage

And would you believe 

A MOUSE was at large?

It panicked and scurried beside the wall

And then I thought I had seen it fall

But, before I had time to show it to her,

The whole “mouse thing” was just a blur.

“I just saw a MOUSE,” I told my friend

And she believed me as best friends do,

“But A MOUSE in our HOUSE, that can’t be true.”

“George will be angry if he finds out.

He will know I left the bird seed out.”

And so be it  . . . it really was a MOUSE

And the next problem was I’d need a trap.

Oh, woe is me!

I could never KILL!

Not even a flea.

And Marj gave her two bits worth,

“You know, Gail, I have a hunch . . .

Where there’s a MOUSE

There’s usually a bunch.”

Well . . . we didn’t waste time.

We jumped in the car

And we turned on a dime.

We sped to The Northern

In the middle of town

It stocks everything 

From goose down

To a horse’s bridle.

The clerks work hard,

They’re never idle.

“If we don’t find one, 

There’ll be sh--.

Believe me.

He’ll have a fit,”

I muttered on the way.

And on a shelf 

Near a hockey puck

To my surprise, 

Was my good luck.

The Northern made my day.

It’s reliable in every way.

    

          .     .     .     .     .

I felt so sorry

For the poor dead mice

We used the mouse trap

Not just once, but thrice

Each time we caught one

It was cold as ice

I looked each dead mouse

Right in his small eye

Why, my boy, did you die?

Tears welled in my eyes

I could not help but cry,

Dug each mouse a shallow grave

Prayed to God his soul to save.

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