Rambo Mouse 3: This time it's Personal!

He has returned! The townspeople shake in their homes, doors are slammed shut and locked up tightly. People scurry around like madmen cleaning up all food particles that they can. Others foolishly set useless mousetraps in a futile attempt to safe guard their homes. But all of this is to no avail, Rambo Mouse has returned.

Back in my youth, I heard stories of a legendary mouse that could defy all sorts of traps, poisons and the like. His hunger was insatiable, and his motives were clear: steal every piece of food from every mousetrap to scoff at the foolish human’s attempts to capture him and his brethren. These were the stories my elder brothers would tell to try and scare me at night. It was a tale of a mouse among mice, a vigilante for the weak-minded and inferior rodents of New Jersey. Nightmares would occur and I would clutch my blanket closer at night as windstorms and my imagination played tricks on my eyes. I thought little of it, until it happened.

One faithful fall night we heard an unusual sound emanating from our ceiling. Normally we would hear the pitter patter of little feet running through our walls and think nothing of it. But these steps were different they were somehow… superior to others we had heard. They made a sound that reflected a confidence not normally heard in rodent footsteps. There was almost a swagger like quality to them. Unsure what it was, but certain our years of boyhood training in capturing small animals would surely be all we would need to catch this menace threatening our territory, my two brothers and I went to work setting up traps. We went along our merry way, playing games, running through the house and making our poor mother crazy with our infinite energy on rainy, cold fall days. We then returned hours later to what we were sure would be mouse carnage. But we were wrong, oh so wrong. All we found were empty traps and an uneasy feeling as we were certain we heard phantom mousey laughs from somewhere in the walls of our house.

More determined then ever, we reset the traps, this time making clever arrangements, and utilizing “top shelf” meats, peanut butter and anything else we could sneak from the refrigerator before our mother chased us away with a broom. Again we sat and waited, certain that we had out smarted our four-legged foe. As the minutes passed we were certain that our holy war against this mysterious mouse would end shortly in triumph. We were wrong yet again. Defying all logic and laws of nature, the mouse had struck again! Leaving all the traps fired, all the food gone, and not even a paw print for us to see. It was then that we knew this was no ordinary mouse. This was a mouse of a different breed. A mouse of superior intellect and cunning the likes of which we had never seen. Oh no, there was nothing ordinary about this mouse this was Rambo Mouse!!

The battle raged on throughout the winter, and we would catch other mice, but never Rambo mouse. We knew this because every other mousetrap would be set off in a pattern that was the trademark of Rambo Mouse. After months of frustration and failed attempts to capture the menace, the weather began to warm and soon the battle was forgotten. Springtime rolled around and we assumed Rambo Mouse had left for greener pastures. And for several years we were correct. Then one year, he returned.

We knew it was he by the mysteriously empty traps we kept finding and by the mouse-ish laughter we were certain we heard echoing through the basement. Again we threw everything we could muster at this mouse, and again we were unsuccessful. Soon we realized there was no defeating this foe. We shamefully retracted our traps, removed the poisons, and allowed our foe to run free. It was torturous! We were all heart broken at the defeat.

Time went on, and soon the legend of Rambo Mouse faded, only to be told in a hushed tone when my brothers and I were not around. The three of us remember it vividly, as the only rodent to escape us. Whenever we hear a mouse trap snap, or hear the pitter patter of little mouse feet, we automatically perk up, perhaps our day of reckoning is at hand, and we will once again go up against our childhood foe. All was quiet, until one cold, rainy day in November 2008.

My father had set a trap at the behest of my mother as she claimed to hear a mouse running through the walls at night. My father judiciously set a trap, certain that we would catch this menace. Hours later we ventured down to the basement, my father stood on a chair and pulled back the drop ceiling and reached in to where he had set his trap. An eerie silence fell over him as he withdrew his hand. Clasped in his hand was the mousetrap, void of the baloney he had put there earlier, and void of any captured mice. I swear I heard the laughter once again, that high-pitched, squealing laughter that has haunted my dreams all these years. The hair stood up on the back of my neck and my heartbeat quickened. My palms grew sweaty as the stark realization of what had happened hit me like a freight train. Because of our languid mindset, our furry, four-legged arch-rival had returned.

To top it off my mother too recently laid eyes on the mythical creature. She was on the phone with my aunt, when the villain ran across the floor several times. He then proceeded to hop up the stairs, only to stop and give my mother a stare as if to say… catch me if you can. Then scurried away somewhere in the upper level of our house.

The evidence is overwhelming and it is now undeniable, Rambo Mouse is back, but this time he’s in for the fight of his life. No longer a rash, petulant child, his human opponent has grown and matured. The years have hardened my resolve, and the trials of life have sharpened my wit and skills. Rambo Mouse had better be shaking in his fur because the Triolo Termination crew, led by yours truly is gunning for him. There is nowhere to run, no place to hide. As God as my witness I WILL capture Rambo Mouse, and my victory will be sweet indeed. He has returned and thumbed his mouse nose at me and my family. He is begging for a battle and has thrown the gauntlet to test my resolve. I’m here to tell you all that this year it shall be different. This year there will be no mercy, no reprieve for the wicked. The final epic battle has begun and this time, it’s personal.

Ditium E Honirum Mitee Mousium (An Honorable Death to My Mouse Foe)

-Triolo Termination Crew