This. Means. War.

Before I left for Iceland I thought I saw a mouse once, from the corner of my eye. I didn't see it again but was fairly certain that I had one. I left for Iceland, came back and forgot about it. Until one night I was playing a game and then, from the corner of eye I saw something move. I glanced to my side and there it was: a filthy black little mouse, starting right at me, unmoving. We stared at each other for a split second, and then started to move at the same time. I tried to grab it, he moved to the cupboard under the kitchen sink and sneaked through a tiny little crevice making it impossible for me to reach. Having no means at my disposal to get rid of it, I stuffed the crevice with a sock and sprinkled PAIN sauce all around it and went to bed.

The next day I forgot again to buy mouse traps. I saw it again that night. I chased it under the fridge, and then it somehow sneaked its way towards the other side of the room, underneath another cupboard. I couldn't find it at all so in the end I gave up. I went to bed and I heard the mouse screeching over the floor, trying to get into its little sink hideout that I blocked with the sock.

I bought mouse killer pellets, apparently from Nippon, even though I've never had a problem with mice in Japan (cockroaches are the real problem there). Five little food stations laid out around my living room. My offensive has begun. But the mouse won the first battle.


The pellets are untouched and the gingerbread man has died. This means war. I've called in the help of the military (my Turkish buddy Çan). He suggests buying mouse traps and using peanut butter. I may try that. Or else I'll buy a huge goddamn laser and fry the shit out of that bastard.

Update: death trap ordered!

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