"Ho ho ho! Merry Everyone!"

--Homer Simpson

First off, let me wish that everyone had a Happy Chrismahannakwanzakka! Second, let me forewarn everyone that this will be a long post covering everything from my birthday, to skiing, to Christmas and beyond. I'll have them broken into sub-sections, so not to worry. You can extend the reading over a few days if you truly wish.

23: One year closer to 30

I finally turned 23 on December 21. And it felt kind of weird. Maybe it was because I was celebrating my birthday in Aspen, Colorado (such a terrible place to be). Or maybe it was because my dad married his girlfriend on that day, so I now have a stepmom and a younger stepbrother and stepsister. Boy, that feels weird to finally say.

Or maybe its because there just isn't that much to celebrate with turning 23. Since age 13 you kind of had something to look forward to with each birthday.
13- Yay, I'm a teenager!
14- Yay, I'm an older teenager!
15- Yay, I can drive....limitedly!
16- Yay, I can drive all the freakin' time if I have a car and if my parents allow it!
17- Sweet, I can get into R rated movies!
18- F*** yeah! I can buy smokes, porno, vote, and go die for my country! But I can't have a celebratory beer over it yet. Damn.
19- My last year of being a teenager! Soon I'll be a "mature" and "cool" "Adult".
20- Uhh...well, one year closer to 21!
21- Sweetness! I can go out and drink with the best of them!
22- I'm uh... graduating from college this year. Whoopee?
23- I'm jobless... and living at home, and... I'm... closer to 30... *sigh*

See what I mean? And I think being away from home, some people forgot about my birthday. I didn't get anything from my grandparents (not even a card... yet), but I can forgive them for that. Didn't get anything from my brother either, but both he and I are broke, so that's excusable too.

Snowboarding sucks... when you don't have health insurance.

So, as most of you know, my dad and his then fiance took her two kids and my brother and me to Aspen for a skiing trip in Snowmass village from Dec. 18-24. It sucked.

Just kidding. It rocked. It took my brother and I a day to get used to skiing again. It's a little bit tougher out there in Aspen, when compared to Snowshoe, West Virginia, or whatever day-trip you can make in North Carolina. Out there is a little more intimidating, because come on, its freaking Aspen, Colorado. So the first day Nick and I took a few plunges into the snow, but by the second day we were golden.
On the fourth day we all tried snowboarding. Nick picked it up pretty quickly. My dad and I had far more problems. After a few hours of falling on my wrists and butt, I got used to being able to slow down, and could go down the mountain fairly easily when leaning back on my heels. But its the leaning forward on my toes part I couldn't perfect. Each attempt ended with me falling over on my face or losing control and sliding off-course. And each fall inflamed my left wrist, near where I broke my arm a few years back. And don't get me started on how difficult and confusing getting off a ski-lift can be. Don't even get me started.

So later in the afternoon, after a quick lunch-break, I go back out with my brother and he attempts to teach me how to get the toe-part down. We get off the ski-lift and he surfs down an easy hill. I turn my body around, so I'm facing uphill, and try the leaning on the toe bit. Everything was going pretty well- I was slowing down, I was in control, I was having fun- when suddenly something happened, my board tipped over, and I fell backwards. My head hit the ice with a sickening thud, and my wrist was throbbing in pain.

I sit up with my head in my hands. A skier rides by - "You okay?" she asks.
"Yeah, sure, just taking a break," I reply, trying to ignore pulsing pain in my head. My brother takes a seat further on down the hill. After a few minutes of rest, I slide down and take a seat next to him, but he gets up and boards away impatiently, unaware of my bad fall. I tell him what happened, and as inevitably happened after almost every conversation we had that week, it ends in a small argument, and he boards away. I get up and try one last time to get the toe part right, and as I'm sliding down the hill, I lost control yet again, fall onto my back, and slide off-course into what looks like a bunch of deep, packed up snow next to a lodge. So I reach out my hands to try and slow down my impending doom.

I was wrong. It wasn't packed up snow, it was packed up ice, and pocketed with holes from where people had stepped into it. So I slide into it and over it, the holes killing my butt and my back. My left hand hits the ice and the holes with great force, bouncing over all the pockets, until I finally stop. And I just lie there, staring up at the clouds and the great blue yonder.

Now my butt, back, head, and wrists hurt like hell. And this time, I think I did some real significant damage to my wrists again, it hurts that much when I bend it in any direction.
"@#$% this."
I am NOT going to spend my Christmas worrying about how I'm going to pay my doctor's bills because I am without any form of health insurance and because I've re-broken my arm at the wrist. So I go back inside. Take off my clothes. Park myself right in front of the television for the next few hours.

The next day I traded in my snowboard for skis. And everything was hunky-dory for my last day on the slopes.

Parting thoughts
Everyone who works in Aspen is from a different part of the world it seems- Australia, Ireland, South Africa- everyone's nametags tell where they are from. Nick said he'd love to come work in Aspen one winter and just ski all day. I wouldn't mind. But in the end, I think I still prefer the beach to the mountains. For one, when you're skiing, everyone is covered up. So if a girl goes by, you really can't tell how good they look, or how old they are, unless you get real nosey and follow them around until they take off a hat or you hear them talk. I can't tell you how many times I saw a cute girl that turned out to be a high-schooler. At least at the beach, everyone is in a bathing suit.

Aspen is a haven for actors and movie stars. Kevin Costner just married his hot young wife there a few months ago, and they might even have a house in the little ski-town. That said, we apparently just missed Chevy Chase as we were getting fitted for snowboards that wednesday morning. An employee came up from the downstairs shop and told the other workers "You guys just missed Chevy Chase." My brother and I wanted to find him and yell out "Hey Chevy! You were the bomb in 'Dirty Work', Yo!"
Dave Miller said we should have challenged him to a wacky race down the mountain. You know someone would have ended up balancing on one ski. Screwball comedy hilarity would most definitely ensue.

Chrismahannakwanzakka? Where?

This year didn't feel like Christmas at all, and I think I know why.

1. No Christmas Tree: Because my dad has pretty much moved into the new house with his new wife, there were no Christmas decorations here at the old house. No Christmas tree, no stockings, no nothing. Now, there was a Christmas tree at the new house, and PLENTY of Christmas decorations down at my mom's house, but not having Christmas in this house just made the holiday feel a little... empty.
2. No Christmas Build-up: The final days leading up to Christmas, the 18-24th, were spent in Aspen, Colorado, so there was no real lead-up to Christmas. We came home late Christmas Eve, and the next day, BAM, was Christmas. It was kinda like being in a coma for most of December and waking up Christmas morning tired, bruised, and broke.
3. No Christmas Shopping: Many of you would be glad to not be out in the crazy crowds on Christmas, but I love it. I used to drive out to the mall just so I could walk around and take in the craziness, to bask in the insanity as these people ran from store to store, arms full of clothes and toys and gifts people probably didn't need. I love being around the high energy of the season like that. But this year, I did none of it. Partly because I was in Colorado. But partly because I did zero shopping because I didn't have the money. Or I DID have the money, but after the shopping I would have had NO money. I didn't buy any presents this year. Not for anyone.

Actually, I take that back, I did buy a small gift for my mother my last day in Aspen, but that was it. I didn't get anything for my dad, brother, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, or friends. I didn't even send out Christmas cards like I wanted to. And I hate it. I feel so ashamed, I hate it. I hate not participating in the season, and I hate feeling like a jerk for not buying presents for the first time in many many years.

4. No Christmas TV Specials: "A Charlie Brown Christmas" was the only Christmas special I got to see this year. I missed Frosty. I missed the Grinch. And I MISSED Rudolph.
Crap. I love that Bumble Snow Monster when he has no teeth.

All that said, Christmas Eve at my mother's and Christmas Day at my aunt's and grandmother's was fun. We got to my mom's at 10 PM and had a late dinner. Then we opened gifts. The great thing about my mom is she puts up soooo many Christmas decorations. Even the soap dispenser in the bathroom is a Christmas Bear with presents. It's awesome. And Christmas Carols play all the time in the living room, I love it. And in the morning, the whole family goes to my aunt's house where my uncle cooks up a Christmas feast of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon. Enough to feed an army, and with 10 kids and 8 adults, you need a lot of food.
My grandmother showed up dressed as Santa with gifts for everyone. That was unexpected and pretty cool. My brother got a bag of beef jerky. I got a DVD set of The Three Stooges.
Later in the afternoon, we all go to my grandmother's (or my Mamere's, those of you who have heard me speak of her) and exchange gifts, and this is where it gets kind of crazy. Take all those kids and adults, put them in one living room, put my brother and I in charge of distributing presents, say "Ready, set, go!" and watch as the floor disappears under shredded wrapping paper, ribbons, and bows. Everyone opens their gifts at once and more often than not, many presents end up getting lost under wrapping paper or larger gifts. And you can always count on my cousin Jacob to whine about not getting as many gifts as the next person. With him it's all about quantity.
Then we all gather in the dining room (kids in the kitchen) and partake in yet ANOTHER feast, this one concocted by my master chef Mamere. Roast beef, mac and cheese, potatoes, croissants, salad, ham, all kinds of desserts... I'm getting hungry just thinking about it.

Anyway, in the interest of making this blogpost a bit shorter, here's a rundown of just about every gift I received for Christmas.

A ski trip to Snowmass
A full body massage
The Return of the King: Extended Edition DVD
Spider-Man 2 DVD
Freddy vs. Jason DVD
AMC's Reel Clues movie board game
The Three Stooges 2 disc DVD set
A book called The Great American Pin-Up
A wizard marionette from Europe made from porcelain, cloth, and real hair
A little blackbook for sketches and writing down ideas that come to me while out and about
Flat bookmark pens for the blackbook with quotes from great people on them
A sweater
Some boxer briefs
A sunglasses holder for my visor in my car
A Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Model wall calendar
A Simpsons Trivia desk calendar
A collection of General Mills breakfast cereal icons in Beanie form that my mother bought with saved up UPC symbols back in 1997 or 1998, had stored in the back closet, and forgotten about until she moved last year. This includes beanie versions of Count Chocula, the Cheerios Bee, Bandit the dog from Cookie Crisp, the Lucky Charms Leprechaun, Trix Rabbit, Cuckoo bird from Coco Puffs, and Wendall the chef from Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
A beer stein from Munich
A lighter from Munich
A Cuban cigar (shhh, don't tell anyone)
A candle and candle holder from Prague
A ceramic, handpainted tile from Prague
A little handmade Jamaican dude puppet on a spring (weird to describe, from Europe too)
Gift cards to Best Buy and Gap
Stocking stuffer candy (American and European)
Other, assorted stocking stuff things

That's about it, I think. To those of you that made it this far, congratulations on surviving this long post. I'd give you a prize if I had the money. I hope everyone had a great Chrismahannakwanzakka, or whatever you celebrate, and please feel free to leave comments describing your favorite gift this year, or amusing stories from the holidays. I have updates to the Great Rat War that I will leave later this week.
Until then, ttfn...
--Cbake

"What do you mean 'they cut the power'? How could they cut the power, man? They're animals!"

--Aliens

So this evening I went downstairs to do some laundry before my big skiing trip on saturday. I'm running out of socks and t-shirts, and I just KNOW I'm gonna need some whites out there in Colorado. Anyway, I throw my clothes into the dryer and hit start.

Silence.

I hit start again.

Nothing.

Then I start conspiracy theoring. What if those bastard rats got behind the dryer and chewed through the wires and cut the power? Oh, I'll hates them forever. Moreso than usual. Cause now, I'm outta socks and t-shirts before my trip. Bastards.

By the way, afterwards I did some staking out on the basement steps. Demon Rat poked his head from around the corner of the crawlspace and scanned the room. He stopped when he came across my face and stared at me for a few moments. Then he disappeared back into the darkness. Took my breath away. Abnormally large Rat Bastard.
--Cbake

"They were testing the fences for weaknesses systematically..."

"... They remember..."
--Jurassic Park

Those darn Rats are getting craftier by the minute. I swear, there must be some sort of Brain-Rat that is in charge of them all, because they are figuring out our strategies and getting past them.

Last week, before I left for Raleigh/Chapel Hill, we set some new sticky traps up on the crawlspace ledge, and one underneath the water heater where they've been drinking. When I came home wednesday and checked, along with my father who had been in Orlando, we saw that the traps had moved. One on the crawlspace ledge was missing-- most likely knocked back into the crawlspace by the rats, as they had done before, and the trap under the water heater had been pulled back underneath all the wood behind the heater.

Perhaps one trap simply isn't enough for these monster rats. Perhaps they are getting strong enough to pull themselves free from the glue. That's a frightening thought. Or perhaps... they know what these traps do, and now they how to get rid of them. Afterall, they watched as Fatmouse got stuck in two of them and never returned...

So yesterday, we took the last remaining sticky trap from upstairs (that had successfully caught the two hopefully-not-infected-with-hantaviruses-Deer Mice) and moved it to under the water heater. Surely that would catch a Rat. I made the placement perfect.

But not even an hour later, I went down to check on the trap and lo and behold! THAT trap had now been moved under the pile of wood too! These bastards are up to something, I just know it. The final trap that remained on the crawlspace ledge is gone as well. They're like the Velociraptors of the Rat-World. Soon they'll learn how to open up doors, and then my house is doomed.

I'm really starting to like the idea of letting snakes loose down there.
--Cbake

N.C. State, do you want my pity?

Here's a mass instant message I received earlier today:

"Today we salute you, Mr. UNC. No other team in the country can be fifth place in their conference yet still hold a top 10 ranking. But as the only team actually performing is the women's soccer team, you never hesitate to tell everyone to wait until basketball season.And if Santa Clara has anything to say, and they do, we'll be waiting at least another year. True, we have a 75% male population, but 99.5% of those males prefer women. And while NC State salutes another four years of W, Carolina fans raise a limp wrist to another three years of John Bunting. So crack open an ice cold bud light and keep on cheering for Radio, I mean Sean May, as your basketball team continues to ride rankings based on a legacy that ended years ago..."

Welcome to two years ago, because that would have been the only time period in which this moronic Chain-Instant Message would be apt to send.

Why does NC State always like to forget that we, uhm, beat them in football this year? And soon after, we beat Number 4 ranked Miami, who ALSO beat State?

"But as the only team actually performing is the women's soccer team, you never hesitate to tell everyone to wait until basketball season."

Since when was a 6-1 record in men's basketball considered underperforming?

"But we haven't lost a single basketball game, and you lost to Santa Clara."

Fair enough. But it's kinda tough to lose to crap teams from North Carolina like Elon, ECU, and Campbell. Try beating Kentucky, then we'll talk.

Why, NC State, do you always make poor attempts at trying to compare yourself to UNC? Stop wasting our time.

Because instead of kicking us while we're down, all this message does is complain about us... winning? So maybe instead, I should be saying thank you to the author for pointing out how dumb some State students can be.
--Cbake

PS: To my State friends, you know I still love you.

Trapped like a Rat...

The Demon Rat Wars: Update #2

Two nights ago I had a hard time sleeping. I wasn't troubled so much with dreams of killing that rat, the image of me shooting him replaying over and over in my mind (in slow motion), but I tossed and turned all night. Maybe the Ghost of Fatmouse was hovering over me, nibbling on my nose and keeping me from getting a restful sleep.

So around 4 AM I get up and groggily stumble to the kitchen, smacking my knee on the corner of a doorframe, so now I'm limping, half-asleep. We have a sensor-light that automatically turns on anytime there is motion in the kitchen, so when I step through the door, the lights go on and I'm temporarily blinded.

So here I am, disoriented and limping through the room toward the refrigerator. I need orange juice to make my sore throat feel better. Open the fridge door- No Orange Juice. No milk either (so there goes my breakfast in a few hours). No juice of any kind. Just lots and lots of water bottles.

I turn around disappointed, head hung low (Charlie Brown Christmas music plays in the background...*) shuffling my feet, and my half-closed eyes sense movement in the corner of the kitchen. At least, I think I saw movement? In one of those real-life cartoon moments, I take both hands, wipe out my eyes, and peer forward so I can see clearer.

My vision slowly comes back into focus, my eyes adjusting to the light, and there, in the corner, near the mouse hole, on the sticky trap that has already caught one mouse trying to smuggle a piece of dog food away, lies... another mouse.

And I thought the first one was just a loner. What the Hell. I'll deal with him later. It's too early for killing.

So I shuffle back to my bed and go to sleep for another four hours. I wake up. Sit at the computer. Skip breakfast (dry cereal sucks). Go back to the kitchen. Mousey still struggles. Put on clothes. Pick up trap. Take trap to edge of woods. Get stick. Start scraping Mousey off the glue.

My dad was able to scrape the first mouse off in seconds. I didn't see him do it, but either that mouse was only stuck on one part of his body, or my dad has some technique I couldn't master, because after five minutes of pulling and scraping and Mousey squeals of pain, I still couldn't get the little guy off the trap. I considered shooting the poor bastard with the pellet gun, but this guy was so small, the result would be the equivalent of a human getting hit with a cannon ball. And I didn't feel like spreading Mousey guts all over the yard.

So I tried harder, and after lots of stretching and lots of glue spreading, I was finally able to peel him off the trap and leave him to Mother Nature. I guess a cat or raccoon or owl will come pick him off. And then probably get the guy stuck in their mouths because of the glue, and then it's trapped in their throat and they choke on the mouse and die, and then... Oh no. Maybe this wasn't the best idea...
--Cbake

*Arrested Development reference

"You dirty rat! You killed my brotha! Oooooooh..."

THE DEMON RAT WARS: UPDATE
Might be a little graphic.

Operation: Kidnap was a success. Last night my dad brought home some Sticky Rodent Traps (catches mice, rats, spiders, and SCORPIONS?) and we placed 6 around the house. Two in front of the rat hole in the kitchen, two in the basement near the water pipe where I saw them drink, and one at each corner of the crawlspace.

Within an hour, we caught the "baby rat" that I had seen in the kitchen. Unfortunately, as we spied on him from around the corner, we saw it was a little mouse, and not a baby rat. The poor thing was kinda cute too. He had these huge, cartoonish "aren't I cute?" eyes that pleadingly stared up at us, partly because he wanted us to let him go, partly because the other side of his head was glued to the trap. My dad took him outside and scraped him off with a stick. We'll let nature run its course.

I did some research on the net and he looked like a Deer Mouse. Look them up. They can be quite cute. They can also be quite deadly, as they're one of the only known rodents to transmit the hantavirus to humans. Wonderful. So in one to six weeks, you'll know if we caught it or not. The good news is, you can't transfer it person to person. So you are all safe.

This morning I woke up and really didn't want to go to the basement. My dad didn't stay here again last night, so if there were any enemy captures downstairs, I would have to deal with it, and it wouldn't be pleasant, could be dangerous, and would almost certainly be messy.

After a few hours, I poked my head into the basement. Sure enough, an ugly little (I should say huge) sucker was trapped on TWO of the glue traps near the water pipe. Buddy, my dog, went over to sniff him (I hope), and that thing let out the most awful cries. A mixture of terrible screeching, weeping, squeaking, and I swear I heard a lil "Hellllp meeeeeeeeee" in there too.

I didn't know what to do. Shoot it? That would be a mess. Leave it to starve? The dogs might try to get to it again and inadvertently glue their noses next to the rat, which the rat could then try to chew off, since his head wasn't glued. He was sort of sprawled out on his stomach, both legs spread apart on one glue trap, his body attached to the other. And this guy must have struggled for awhile, bc he had moved both glue traps a foot away from where we placed them. And he had pretty much crapped himself all over. From nose to beginning of tail, he was almost as long as one of the traps.

After a few hours (I had to watch my Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns) , a call to my dad, and after reading some of the comments in the last entry, I knew what I had to do.

Put on a jacket.
Grab a shovel.
Time for an execution.

Once I got the shovel near the rat, he started squeaking and hissing, and calling me names in Rattish I was sure. He tried to bite the shovel. I didn't enjoy toying with him, and I noticed the more he struggled around the shovel, it looked like he might break himself free. So I had better hurry.

I scooped up both traps in the shovel and carried him outside. It's raining in Charlotte now, so it's a pretty gloomy day. Gray, wet- a bad day to die. I carry him to the edge of the woods and lay the shovel down and watch. I take a few photos with my disposable camera, for posterity. Once this camera is developed, I will post the pictures here. He struggles some more, and I realize the rain might be helping him break free of his bonds. And I can't have this rat escape and run back to his friends. My superior officer would have my head on a plate.

So I dash back to the house, run up the stairs, and equip myself with the pellet gun. On the march back to the rat, I consider scraping him off the traps and letting him loose. Surely the glue on his hands and feet wouldn't allow him to run back to his base, but I can't risk it. What if I just throw both traps into the woods and let a predator pick him off? I can't risk allowing another animal to catch itself in the glue. I consider burying him alive. Yeeeeech, no thanks.

So, let the war drums begin. It's time for an execution. I give him his last rites. I make the sign of the cross, say a little prayer for him, and take aim. I look through the scope and line up the sights right with his head. Take a deep breath. Pull the trigger.

PFFT! SCRREEEEEEEE!

Dang. I must have missed. But he's screeching like he got hurt? I don't get it. I aim again.

PFFT! SCREEEEE!

Dangit, I hate that sound. I'm not having fun. I feel like I'm torturing the poor guy. Maybe these pellets aren't big enough. Maybe they are ricocheting right off his head? Maybe the thing isn't loaded? There's not a scratch on him. Sigh. I'll try one last time. Line up the sights. Take a breath. Pull the trigger.

Got him. But not where I wanted. I should have realized at that close range, the scope's sights would be a little higher than where he would actually get shot. This time, though I aimed for his head, I see an entry wound in his side. Thick blood is oozing out, he's struggling a little bit. Now that I know to aim a little higher, I consider shooting him in the head, and ending his misery. But his thrashing is slowing down. His head falls to the side. His little feet and toes are wriggling, but not as much as before. I examine the wound and determine I probably punctured both lungs with that shot. I may have even gotten close to his heart. After a minute, his feet stop moving, and I am completely sure he is no longer breathing.

I do the sign of the cross once more, and contemplate what to do with the corpse. Take him off the glue and toss him in the woods? Nah. Bury him? I don't want the dogs digging him up in the spring, and there's no good soil nearby. No, I get a trash bag, slip him and the traps into it, tie a knot, and dump him in the trash can. Adios, little buddy. You put up a good fight.

When I get back into the basement, I notice the trap that was set in the far far corner of the crawlspace is missing. Crap. I bet a rat got caught, struggled, and tipped the thing over, so he fell back into the corner that is full of wood, molding, and other stacked up junk. I walk around with a big spotlight, and bang on the heater, talking all the while, but I hear no screeching. I hear no struggling. Perhaps he's dead?

I don't know. All I know, is I don't want to go back there looking for it, only to have the Big Daddy Demon Rat jump on me from above in the crawlspace. So, I'm biding my time. I just hope shooting the rat wasn't bad karma. I've got this feeling the other rats have it in for me now. I better watch my back...
--Cbake

As Indiana Jones put it, "Rats..."

The enemy is on my doorstep. My house is being invaded.

Two weeks ago when I opened my basement door I saw a dark shape scurry across the floor. It was the undeniable image of a rat. A big freakin' RAT. I told my dad about it, and two days later when he was down there, it ran right in front of him and spooked him good. So we set up a "Have a Heart" rat-trap near my dog's food bowl, and a few days later it was shut, but no rat inside.

Since then, when I go downstairs to do laundry I can hear the little bugger scurrying around in the back corners. At night my dogs wake us up with their barking. They can hear it too, and it freaks them out.

Last week when I went to the dryer, I could hear it close by, so I held my breath and waited. I heard it again. This time, it sounded like it was... above me? My mind raced through the possibilities - Was the rat waiting by the basement door, and when I came in, he shot up the stairs and into the kitchen above? I went back up the stairs and looked to see what was directly above the washing machine. It was the kitchen cabinets. And there, in the corner, underneath the cabinet doors, hidden from sight, was a hole. I showed my dad and he agreed: It had been chewed.

So we set up the Have a Heart trap there, and three days ago I find it shut again, but this time, no rat. My dad and I speculate that perhaps the rat is so large, the trap door shuts on his body and he is able to back himself out. SPOOKY.

Yesterday, when I went downstairs, I stopped on the last bottom step and looked into the corner where it dwells. After a few seconds, I see him. And he doesn't see me. I watch as he crawls up some old wood and corner molding we have stacked back in the corner, then as he crawls up the BRICK wall, and into the crawlspace, which is at head level across the way. He didn't look so big. He actually looked kind of cute. I do some internet research and determine that, based on the length of his tail and estimated body size, he must be a large mouse, and not a rat at all.

I call my dad, who has been staying over at the new house he bought with his girlfriend (which he plans to move into in the next few months) the past week, and let him know I saw it and think it's a mouse. He disagrees, saying he swears the rat he saw was as large as his hand. I think his mind is making it bigger.

Well, today, I go back downstairs, and like clockwork, I see the Rat appear on the wood, and crawl back up the brick wall and into the crawlspace, just like yesterday. I smile to myself and think he might be easy to capture now. And then, just before I set my barefeet on the basement floor, without warning, the biggest, darkest, ugliest looking Demon Rat I've ever seen, comes running out from the corner towards me.

What the Hell?! There's only supposed to be one of them! Well he looks at me, and I look at him, and in a split second, we both turn tail and run back in the direction we came from, he to his corner, and me back up the stairs to safety. I was friggin' spooked.


An ROUS from "The Princess Bride"

Two Rats. @#$%.

I go back down to do some Recon. I sit on the steps and wait. And back in the crawlspace, I hear them moving. Then I hear the most god-awful sound- the terrobly loud screeching and squealing of rats. Fighting. It's not something I'd like to hear twice in my life. That thing ROARED.

I get thoroughly creeped out, because I'm in nothing but my pj pants, and when sitting on the steps, the hole in the cabinet in the kitchen is directly at my eye level. I'm afraid to see a rat come out of it and run straight for my face. So I leave, compose myself, and go back down.

I sit a few steps lower, but still high enough to have an eagle eye view of things. I wait. And wait. And then I see it. The Rat comes slowly out from under the wood and starts sniffing around the water heater. Then I realize he's drinking from it! He drinks for a few, then runs back to the dark corner for safety. Then he comes back, drinks, runs back under the wood. This continues for awhile, and I figure this is a could sniper position to wait with the pellet gun.

Then, as I'm watching "Fatmouse" (dubbed by Jerome), Demon Rat pokes his head around the crawlspace, which I remind you, is at headlevel in the corner. That sucker just sits there and watches me as I watch Fatmouse drink. This goes on for another 10 minutes, and then I get my next shock for the day.

A third rat climbs up the wood and into the crawlspace with Demon Rat.
@#$%. Three rats. What's the chances of these suckers breeding.

I sat there for over an hour. Each minute got creepier than the next. Years of watching horror movies taught me to expect at any moment to feel a rat land on my shoulder from behind. I keep hearing the scratching, the pitter-patter of their feet everywhere. I get the feeling there is a rat hiding near my dog's food to the right of the stairs. I think he's spying on me as I spy on his family.

This happened just a few hours ago. Since then, I've gone back down and watched, and listened, and have come up with nothing new. Just moments ago, I heard something in the kitchen. When I poke my head around the corner, I see a tiny mouse-sized shape, lightning quick, streak from the Have a Heart trap, still filled with cereal, and into the hole in the cabinet.

That does it. They ARE breeding.

"Of course, you know, THIS means War!"

We now have Five options.

1. SNIPER ATTACK: I prepare my pellet gun, sit on the basement stairs in a sniper position, and await each rat to come to the water heater to drink. I pick them off, one by one, as they come down from the crawlspace to save their fallen comerades.

2. ENEMY CAPTURE: We buy more, bigger Have a Heart traps, set them up all over the house. Capture the three KNOWN Rats, and the one baby (there are assuredly more than one), and let them loose in the woods.

3. TORTURE: We buy lots of sticky traps, set them up all over, capture all until we see no more, then throw them out and let them starve.

4. DEATH BY FOOD: We set out rat poison and hope they don't all go and die somewhere in the crawlspaces and stink up the house to high heaven. Cause Lord knows I am NOT crawling back there to retrieve the corpses.

5. HIRE MERCENARIES: I buy a falcon and let him roost in the basement, seeking out and destroying all rats that cross his path. Or I guess I could buy a few snakes and let them do the job as well. But how to get rid of the snakes without Chinese Gorillas*...

These are my orders. Search and Destroy. Right now, I am setting up an ambush in the kitchen. The Have a Heart trap is large enough for the baby. If I can capture the small child, I may be able to chain him to a wall and draw out the rest of the family, at which point they will be ripe for the picking.

Does anyone have any other suggestions? I hear my dog Buddy barking downstairs. The attack as begun. Operation Demon Rat Destruction is underway.
--Cbake

*Simpsons reference