Game. On.

There is a mouse  rat  kangaroo horrifying creature living in my basement.

I realized this just prior to Christmas when I was working in my office in the wee hours of the morning, and I could hear the knawing, scratching noises below the floor.  As discomforting as this seemed, I was at least grateful the varmint was in my basement, all dark and clay and icky, and not living in the lighter, drier, crammed-with-clutter upstairs I call home.

I heard my new downstairs neighbour several times over the holidays under various floors, so I mixed up a wee cocktail of Cheez Whiz and warfarin, summoned up my gumption, and trugged to my now creature infested basement to leave a little “welcome to the neighbourhood” snack.  Apparently he wasn’t fooled, as days later the pitter patter of little feet could still occasionally be heard beneath the floor.

Now, if I may sidestep here for a moment, any reader of Harry Potter knows the best cure for a touch with Dementors is chocolate.  For Christmas, my dear Goddaughter was kind enough to include Godiva chocolate truffles in my gift.  I will admit it here now… while I willingly share my Christmas chocolate with my family, I will sneak away and hide the really, really good stuff for myself.  And that I did.  In case of Dementors, of course.  After enjoying half the box a truffle or two, I hid the remaining manna in the bottom drawer of my dresser and proceeded to share the rest of my suggary gifts over the holiday season until my children are now a bit addicted to chocolate.

So the night before last, while seemingly deep in sleep, I had a dream that my neighbour under the floorboards has made his way to the upper house and was currently eating my hidden Godiva chocolate.  I woke up, and listened in the dark wondering if this could actually be real… I listened harder…. I leaned closer… nothing.  And back to bed I went.

Later yesterday, I start to tell Rainbow about my silly dream, and how I was listening in the dark close to my hidden stash.  “What if it wasn’t a dream?” she asked.  “Or what if your like a dream psychic or something?”  (In retrospect I realize this was probably just a ruse to find out where my chocolate stash is).  No, I assured her.  It was completely quiet.  And I proceeded to open the drawer to show her the proof it was a dream…

Only to find…

A half gnawed Godiva wrapper.  And no Godiva truffle in it.

The dang kangaroo beast found and ate my Godiva chocolate.  And there was no way I was going to eat the three remaining truffles, regardless of possible Dementor attacks.  If you think “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”, you should see the fury of a woman whose Godiva has been tainted.

Clearly my basement neighbour had more refined taste than Cheez Whiz.

A plot was immediately hatched.  The. Beast. Must. Die.

Surgery was intricately performed on my remaining truffles, their insides hollowed out with a toothpick, a new warfarin-truffle centre was carefully prepared and refilled, they were smooshed back together, rewrapped, and placed back in the box in the bottom drawer of my dresser.

Game. On.

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4 Responses to “Game. On.”


  1. 1 Quadelle January 14, 2011 at 7:36 am

    At least your new neighbour will die a happy death. 🙂

  2. 2 Tanya Roseberry January 14, 2011 at 12:15 pm

    You are a strong woman…not because of the mouse, but because you sacrificed a Godiva Truffle. As soon as I’m through typing this, I will participate in a moment of silence for both you and the Godiva Truffle.

    Game on!

  3. 3 Susanne December 11, 2011 at 10:07 am

    Just rereading this….because it is very relevent to my life at the moment. The beasts have found two different stashes of Christmas chocolates that were destined for holiday gifts. It’s chemical warfare at our house too.


  1. 1 Sock Girl: Mouse Hunter « Old Blue Socks Trackback on January 16, 2012 at 7:39 am

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