For the last few nights, I’ve heard some type of scratching coming from different parts of my walls in my bedroom. At first it caused me no alarm. My bedroom window is right next to the street, so I just assumed it was a crack head masturbating. Not really anything to get excited about. Pretty standard stuff. That’s just the charm of the neighborhood.
Then I heard a squeaking. Crack heads don’t squeak. They squeal. I have a great ear for crack heads and I knew immediately that I was not dealing with Tyrone Biggums (if you get that reference we’re best friends). No, this was not of the human specie. This is an animal. A predator. A wild savage. I have literally been spending the last week, if not longer, sleeping face to face to a wild animal. Little does that creep know it has just entered the lion’s den. The blog cave. The Champagne room. Welcome to your worst nightmare.
My original plan was to just wait it out til the animal eventually dies. Then I realized the animal probably has the same plan. Waiting for me to overdose on carbs. Just watching me work myself to death. Lurking while the lokos slowing take over my bloodstream and body. I’ll be honest he’ll probably win. I now realize I must attack. I’ve been invaded and I refuse to roll over. This isn’t France. Momma ain’t raise no bitch.
I have cut down the possible species to either a rat, a mouse, a squirrel, or a sexual predator. Here’s how I will attack and destroy each:
Honestly a rat is my worst case scenario. I pray that I am not dealing with a rat. A rat walked over my foot two years ago and I screamed like a little bitch and literally ran home. I still think about it. Rats in Boston are a different specie. If there’s a rat in my wall, I’m not ruling out suicide bombing my own room. I’ll go full kamikaze. Don’t test me. If I’m going out I’m taking him with me. I’ll see him in hell. Allah Akbar!
This is best case scenario. I would love if I had a Stuart Little situation on my hands. I get lonely in my blog cave, and me and my roommates have had several conversations about how much we need a house pet. Mouses are basically street hamsters. I can deal with that. I would love to recreate Ratatouille except the rat is a mouse and instead of helping me cook, the mouse helps me write blogs and text girls. A match made in heaven.
If its a squirrel then I’m a bit torn. On one hand, squirrels are cute. On the other hand, they are fast, agile, and could definitely cause problems if it turns against me. I have a rule to never befriend someone you can’t catch and kill, and I’m not sure I could catch a squirrel. It would be a battle. It also probably has rabies.
This is obviously the most realistic. Everyone knows I’m a sex icon. I’m the perfect target for a sex predator. I have many boy-like delicacies such as the butt of a 12 year old polio victim and the legs of a male gymnast. Absolutely irresistible to anyone who spends their majority of time in white utility vans and Chuckie Cheeses. The only defense from a sexual predator is to get him before he gets me. Give him a taste of his own medicine. Beat him at his own game. “Oh how the turn tables have….. turned”- Michael Scott”- Me.
Seriously if anyone knows what to do let me know asap. I’m sick of living in constant fear of an animal stealing my Dominos.