Dear Mouse,
I didn't think it would end this way, but I think a smart rodent such as yourself knew that the day would come where I would ask you, no, plead with you, to leave. Frankly, this charade has been going on for far too long and now, our sharing the same house has turned into an awkward dance - I try not to step on you, because truly, you gross me out. I've asked you more than once to leave. In fact, I've shouted it while coming after you with a spatula, foaming at the mouth, while my roommate looks on standing on top of our leather couch.
Remember that time I came at you with a pot of boiling water? And still you escaped, because you are an elusive mouse, a mouse that somehow manages to avoid poisonous traps, the vacuum cleaner and the end of my old softball bat. That's why I'm only going to tell this one more time before I go absolutely bat shit crazy on your ass:
Can you please, please get the fuck out of my house?
You have no right to be here. No one invited you in; you don't pay rent and neither does your dad. I'm trying to be civil, as I believe animals do have some rights besides the right to be sautéed and eaten. But I would really appreciate it if you could stop running through my kitchen, trying to mosey your way into my Smart Start boxes and poop in them. That's very rude. Please stop surprising me when
I'm at home alone watching True Blood"" with my pants off, and please stop showing up at inopportune times when I'm hanging out in the living room with the good-looking boy with blue eyes and a regular bathing schedule. When he sees the jealous look on your face, he knows you're territorial and this is neither attractive nor impressive to him.
I'm not sure why you linger here. I have about four mousetraps trying to kill you. I'd have more traps if I weren't so poor and, like you, didn't have an affinity for expensive cheeses. I don't know how to make it more clear that, frankly, I'm not interested. Just because I have a hole on the side of my house that my semi-special-ed. landlord won't patch up, that doesn't give you the right to enter without permission.
When you started coming around at the beginning of the fall, I figured I could easily get rid of you. But you're not like other mice. You elude peanut butter and poison-ridden traps. And you're obsessed with me - it's almost like you're an old dead creepy uncle reincarnated into my own little rodent stalker. And I hate you for this. That's why I tried to run you over with shopping carts, burn you with lighters and try to put you into a bucket and throw you in the laundry machine. But somehow you escape.
Not that it all wasn't fun. You certainly scared the shit out of my friend when you touched the tips of her toes as she slept on my floor. But you've stayed past your welcome and I can no longer sit back and let you ruin whatever semblance of a normal life I still have.
If you don't leave me, I will leave you. No, just kidding. I have nowhere to go. I suppose I could probably sleep in my office at the Union, but I've already found a mouse trap in there too, so it would still remind me of you, causing me to almost vomit. Plus, I can't be near that Fan Din Stir Fry stand for that many days in a row. Just looking at it gives me the shits.
If you don't leave, I vow to kill you - I promise. No longer will I just clean the shit out of the house hoping to starve you. I will come after you with a knife as I crawl on my hands and knees at your level. If you don't leave, I promise you will regret it. I will call up a good friend I have, Mr. Exterminator ,and he'll do the dirty work for me. It's easier and less messy than a divorce.
I'm giving you until Sunday. You can hang out for a few more days, get your things together and hang out one last time at our final Pregame Badger football party. After that final send-off, I vow to have your rodent ass dead.
Thank you for your time and I am sorry it had to be this way.
Sincerely,
Ashley Spencer
P.S. I put my cereal in the 'fridge, motherfucker.
Help Ashley plot the mouse's demise; e-mail her at aaspencer@wisc.edu.
