A few days ago, I was at a friends house along with several others staying with them for various reasons. But this was no ordinary evening. I was in my room minding my own business when I heard a blood-curtling shreik. By the time I got to the scene, several of the others had arrived before me, and after that point, none of our lives would be the same.
Amidst confusion and mass-hysteria, I got the story from an innocent bystander: while a newcomer was in the kitchen cooking dinner, a rodent had reared his ugly head. A crime too heinous to let pass. Shortly thereafter, our small band of 4 men, and 9 women plotted our reciprocation. The plan: Kill the Beast! While armed with small handpowered kitchen appliances and trashcan lids, we set out on our quest to rid the world of this vermin. Or just get him out of the house.
At first, he went behind the refrigerator, then we pulled out the fridge into the middle of the floor, chased him into the hall with no escape and then pinned him under a wicker trashcan. At that point, we needed a moment to stop laughing, and while we did so, the can started to walk away. The next plan was to scoot the can to door, fling him onto the porch into a newspaper and stomp on him. In short, he hit the paper and tore off like he was being chased by a dozen crazed foreigners... oh, wait. He may have been.
I think the funniest part was the differences in the reactions of the girls in the various stages of their 2 year term. The ones that had been here only a month were standing on chairs. 1 year: "you chase him from that side, I'll cover him from here!" 1.5 years: calmly saying "he's too big, he won't fit under your door." 2 years: clamly sitting on the kitchen counter stirring her ramen noodles.
Everything in the story is true except the small appliances and trashcan lids, most of us were even barefoot.