My freshman year of college, a mouse was found in my dorm room. From what the girls on my hall and I were able to deduce, he fed on the other half of the suite, but slept in mine. Being college females, we naturally fell in love with a cute, small rodent, and did the unforgivable - we named him. The resident mouse was loving labeled "Roger" and we set out a humane trap to catch him. Someone bought a cage from which he escaped, and then we miraculously caught him again because Roger wasn't the brightest. He was set free in a field. In November. Roger probably died that very night.
Today I was sitting on the living room floor eating sourdough pretzel bites out of the bag like the fat kid I am, when I noticed something scurry past my right side. I jumped and assumed the worst - that it was a cockroach. Well, lucky me, it kept scurrying. It scurried towards the kitchen enough for me to get quite the view of my new third roommate - we have a mouse. I swear, this apartment. Our windows shatter, our roof leaks, there was a mushroom growing in the window ledge of the bathroom the other day, I kid you not, and now this. Now, a rodent.
It was when I sat the bastard in the kitchen sitting happily on my bathmat that I tell myself is acceptable to use as a kitchen mat by the sink that I lost it. Here he was, intruding on my space uninvited, IN MY KITCHEN? I think not, friend. You will not enjoy the same ending as Roger; I have no intention of being humane in my capturing of you. You are eating my food that I pay for WITHOUT food stamps. You are not paying rent, so you may not stay here. Get. Out. I don't care that I used to be the crazy hamster lady in middle school, I now lack the same soft spot for rodents. You're not a stray basset hound in my kitchen, you're a mouse.
OfficeMate (who is no longer my office mate. Tragedy!) said he liked to think of our new friend as Remy from Ratatouille. Until the mouse begins to cook me four-course gourmet meals, I don't want him here.
I called the landlord.
"Hi, I have a mouse in my apartment?"
"Oh lucky you!"
"Yes, well, he's not paying rent, so I was wondering what the proper protocol was for his eviction."
They're coming tomorrow with traps and will spray around the perimeter of the building. Goodbye, sir. You are not welcome. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.