Saturday, April 10th, 2004

One Liner:I lufff her [or him (the mouse, calm down)]
Time of Death:6:07 am.
listen, i say listen alot to start off, but this is something to listent to, I was pleased as say punch to present that last little update with the toasters, i really must love myself to an unhealthy degree to be that sickly obsessed with myself, but hey I got a laugh, and remember this, I do this for ME, i don't evn know u buddy.


yeah u guessed it, this is a drunkpdate and in the words of Piyum Khatibi, who might as well be me, "I'm hammered and I'm going home for the night" see thats funny, cuz i left my phone at smit, james, piyum and steves and then smitty called me and piyum who had gone home picked up and pretended to be me and said that sentence, but i was at the same party as smit but just on the balcony...open ur eyes, smattdog.


hey this not about me being drunk or being in love with you, and I AM, listen you know it's true, don't fight it, just kiss the screen and I'll feel it....this is about a mmouse.


beware of might modest mice on a missionthis mouse, to my knowledge has never ridden a motorcycle, but is still the coolest mouse I've ever met. EVER. and I'm a mouse connnousoiuree?


The story begins, well I wish I knew the origin. But hey I don;t, deal with it. But enter me and smith-appppenssssss walking from one apartment party back to the homebase for some playing cards and some of my yeungling and amberbocks...enter a mouse, white as can be, white as virgin snow, white as powder, not like a pale granular substance, but more like the albino character from the movie of the same name.


this mouse is scared, probably from some trying ordeal that we can not even fathom with our feeble human minds, he's trrembling and not moveing much, nibbling on grass blades. Me and smitt stare at the mouse like its a beacon from heaven for a good minute. The mouse makes nary a move. Smitty runs home to get some sort of container, my job is to track the mouse's progress.


The mouse, realizing that it was now ONE on ONE, and that his foe is the less than fleet-footed D.Who, takes off into the parking lot, I run and put my foot in front of its path several times to get it out of the line of fire, I'm yelling commands at the silly monster to stay away from the possible travels of motor vehicles, but to no avail. this mouse it a moron... or is it? Jump to conclusions much?


The mousey babey is smart, as Smitty returns with an empty oatmeal box and solo cup, the little critter hides under some cars. I'm sprawled on the asphalt tracking the movements of the white devil under the cars, as he circles the tires of several cars knowing that we can't catch him so close under the treads of the black rubber road grabbers, u like that phrase? I do.


Me and The Smatrick each take a side of the vehicle that he/she is currenlty quivering under, trying to force him to make a decision to bolt one direction or another. Eventually he goes towards the middle of the parking lot, where the cars pass through, the danger zone as kenny loggins would have said. Smitty, equipped with solo cup, traps the defenseless rodent in its tracks, saving it from possilbe death.


Back to the abode we go, mouse in tow. I clean a large glass pickle jar with some water and thoroughly dry that sonofa-recycled-ragu-jar. We introduce the frightened mouse into the jar, humanitarianly bringing along a bit of cheese to feed that old stereotype. The mouse shit the solo cup several times as well as pissing its weight. I'm sorry mighty mouse, do not be afrightened, we love you.


We agree to leave the large, I MEAN LARGE, pickle jar on the deck, without a cap, and to check on the mousey in a few hours. Out we go, and fastforward like 3 hours and we're back sucker. We've told the mouse story to everyone. James and Shaun come back with us and want to see the mouse. The mouse is not in the jar, the jar is upright, not like it got knocked over. What did Piyum do when he came back, earlier? This is crazy. And there in Smitty's ratty old shoe on the deck is Mr. Modest Mouse. You silly slut, how did you get out of a jar three times your size with vertical glass walls and a negative beveled lip of a top edge? You are one crazy character, One mouse worthy of partying with the big boys.


So now we know the mouse's whereabouts, in the shoe, let catch the little bastard. I'm still bewaildered, we all are, how he got out of the jar...enough. it's on the loose. get it, catch the mouse, kill the pig, drink it's blood...I;ve got the conch.. sorry....the mouse in a frenzy of adrenaline decides that James is the devil, and that it can smell freedom.


Using the great sense of smelll, jerry the mouse sniffs the air and decides that we are probably, most likely, only one story off the ground....that's right he went for it..but he was decieved by his nose it was three stories to the ground....a tenthousand times your height drop without a parachute is worth the risk if your only other option is being the pet of us stupid fucks. He jumped it...like dukes of hazard, time went SlowMo for the jump and it was a sight to see. The folks I was with spotted the landing area and I took off downstairs with a solo cup.


This time the mousey had no more fight left, he was wore the hell out, probably still in shock from the sky dive and I just scooped him up right quick. He seemed healthy and was still moving in the cup I carried up to the apartment. I met a man on the way up, who's opinion may not be expert, but he said he once had a pet mouse that died of fright, and maybe we should let him go in the wild.


We did some research online and it said that the biggest problem with lost baby mice is dehydration and that we must hydrate the mouse as its mother would by rubbing warm water in a cotton ball or on our fingers directly on the mouse's private parts. Now that's hilarious, but dead serious. We were not down for that however.


Private parts still dry as the Gobi desert, he still got the four and half star treatment, in a huge bucket equipped luxuriously with his favorite, smit's shoe to sleep in, a dirty cum rag james demanded on contributing, some lettuce, some cheese, some oats and a dish of water...which the mouse greedily sucked down, hydrate sucker, hydrate.


So let's hope the mouse lives through the night, and doesn't climb up the bucket sides and escapes, i bet to jesus he escapes, he's got like webfeet like spiderman suction, it was dumb not to cover his habitat...I mean how'd he get out of the pickle jar?


[Editor's note (4/12/04): He did escape that bucket, but hid in the other one of Smitty's shoes, so he is alive and well and becoming more and more domesticated, well as far as mice go in the domestication process, I guess, stop hassling me....He's now got a nice new cage with a wheel, food and his favorite, a cardboard toilet paper tube...His name is Turkeysub, named primarily from the large little girl from School of Rock, but also lets say cuz I love sammiches and I love him and of course because it's funny to say. Turkeysub...Hahahah...goodnite, you're welcome on the update].


"I've said what I'd said and you know what I mean" (modest mouse).
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Danny Who loves you.


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