The Rodent Chronicles, Part 5: Trench Warfare

Back in the old days, warring armies would act, well, civilized and take a winter siesta from the daily ritual of beating the crap out of each other. I have it on good authority that George Washington and the Continental Army wintered in South Beach. There’s nothing like the smell of Hawaiian Tropic Golden Tanning Lotion and a few morning Mojitos to get that fighting spirit back in time for the spring guts and gore season.

Apparently I am not civilized.

Trench warfare

In my view, the cold winter weather offered me a tremendous advantage over the rodent hordes in my garage. You see, when each days fighting ended, I was able to retire to a comfy red leather chair to watch McHale’s Navy reruns. My opponent, on the other hand, had to take shelter in a cold and nasty hole in the garage ceiling filled with fiberglass insulation. You know, the stuff that feels like a million barbed fish hooks in your skin. I did not have any sympathy for him. War is hell. Sucker.

So I used the winter armistice season to my advantage. I’m pretty sure rodents don’t follow the Geneva Convention, so I didn’t feel obligated either. You can bet if I ever catch that disgusting little puke I won’t feel the least bit guilty about waterboarding him, even if it does violate a new Presidential Executive Order.

Unfortunately, my strategy of fighting through the winter season didn’t pay off. Instead of catching him off guard and achieving a quick and decisive victory, my war turned into a living hell – day after day of grueling combat. Each new day was the day before. During Wheel of Fortune, I would get out of my red leather chair to set bait – which that little rat bastard ate by the way. Later I would make two or three trips down to the garage to try to catch him off guard and exposed. He seemed to know the routine and made it a point to retreat to his hole in the ceiling as I crept down the steps. Being about 220 pounds and full dude sized, I found the challenge of a stealth attack into the three inch ceiling hole daunting to say the least.

Some days I thought defeat and humiliation would be a welcome end to the monotonous cycle. Then I remembered that I am a human and can do cool things like eat steak. I was pretty sure my adversary did not have that luxury. Sucker.

Anti-Rodent technology in action

It was a stalemate. Something had to change in order to break the cycle.

Then it struck me.

Night vision.

Die you commie rat bastard.