mouse

There is no way to convey how funny my evening has become. I can only encase it in an LJ cut.

I went to karate. Then I went with my buddy Dan to the East Providence House of Pizza. We ate. We had a beer. he challenged me to a game of Halo, a first person shooter played on the xbox platform, over the internet. We retreated to our homes for the contest. So far, so very much like many other Tuesdays.

I get home. I log in. We’re playing Halo. There is shooting, there is mayhem. Then, suddenly, my buddy goes apeshit. In between the yelling and screaming I figure out the situation: His cat had come into the house carrying a mouse in its mouth. He freaked out, causing the cat to be all, like, Okay, if you’re not cool with this, I’ll be over here in your room until you get over it.. This, of course, only caused escalation of the freaking out.

Try to understand my situation. I’m sitting at home playing on my Xbox. All of a sudden, my buddy turns from a single minded killing and mockery machine into this screaming pile of “oh my GOD there’s a mouse!” I was unable to breathe, from laughter.

I tried to console him for a little while, but finally did what any good friend would do and started desperately scrambling for some way to record the noises coming from my television. I failed, but along the way I captured these quotes. I started off with this salvo to a couple of friends:

You have, on occasion played Halo, so I share this with you: My friend and I were playing online when suddenly he started freaking out. His cat had just walked into the room carrying a mouse in her mouth. He flipped out, at which the cat was like "okay, you're uptight, I'll be eating this in your room." He went after the cat, who dropped the mouse, which ran away. I am now listening to occasional cries of "GET IT!" through my xbox headset.

The ranting continued, mostly muffled profanity (he had the Xbox headset on, but was away from the machine):

“GET THAT FUCKING THING! My cats are goddamn pussies.”

“GET OVER HERE!”

I advised him to “just leave it be.” He responded: “I DON’T WANT SOME FREAKIN MOUSE DISEASE!”

And finally: “IT’S CLIMBING! IT JUST CLIMBED THE WALL! NOOOOOOOOO! STOP LAUGHING! STOP LAUGHING AT ME! I HATE YOU!”

He demanded that I come over, get his pistol, and help him execute the mouse. I declined. He assured me that he wouldn’t hurt the mouse, he just needed the gun. I declined. He practically begged for some backup, so I grabbed a pair of heavy gloves and drove to his house.

When I got there, he had basically ripped his floorboard radiators off the walls. The mouse was cowering in a corner, hidden up in what was left of one of the radiators. Gloves on, I poked it with one hand and it zipped into the other. We put it outside in the bushes, with our blessings, and came inside to drink its health.