Mice, bastards.
Posted: Tue Mar 11, 08 10:43 pm
Walking into my kitchen about 20 minutes ago, I hear a scratching. Familiar to me from about 9 years ago, I don my protection gear (I.E put on trousers and trainers), grab a broom, dim the lights, sit on the counter, and wait the bastard out.
It pops out, and I spring into action, and smash the fucker right on it's back. This is the first time it had actually worked for me, as when I was younger my reaction time was awful.
Me, being so happy with my success, lifted the broom. Needless to say, the tricky little shit sprung out at the most rapid speed, and hid somewhere in the floor heating system.
This, this is war.
It pops out, and I spring into action, and smash the fucker right on it's back. This is the first time it had actually worked for me, as when I was younger my reaction time was awful.
Me, being so happy with my success, lifted the broom. Needless to say, the tricky little shit sprung out at the most rapid speed, and hid somewhere in the floor heating system.
This, this is war.