Jonathan The Mouse

Prepare yourself for The Cock Street Chronicles, part 2... That Time We Had A Mouse.
Every apartment has its fair share of problems. My first apartment, the one on Babcock Street, had many. During the summer, it was unbearably hot. During the winter, it was entirely too cold. And, one time, I accidentally blew up the kitchen while making a sandwich. To be fair, this caused my sandwich to gain a rich, smokey flavor I have, thus far, been unable to duplicate.

But, perhaps worst of all, there were mice. Well, more accurately, a mouse. I named him Jonathan. Though I imagine, to his people, he was known as Squee or Cheese Wizard.

Anyway, Jonathan was pretty cool. He was training himself to be Batman. Unfortunately, he was terrible at being Batman since he was a mouse and I ended up seeing him at least once a week. I'd often catch him just chilling on the kitchen counter in the dark pretending he was Batman, which was weird. When he spotted me, he'd go and hide in the oven, at which point I'd make some tasteless jokes about the holocaust to make him feel bad while I lysol'ed the counter tops.

I should note that I have a terrible habit of making tasteless jokes about the holocaust. Once, while playing a game of "kings" with two German girls, the following scene played out:
FRIEND: "Okay, categories... Types of bagel."
GERMAN 1: "I... I don't know... Plain?"
GERMAN 2: "I don't know... I drink."
ME: "Probably shouldn't have killed all the Jews..."

But back to the story: Jonathan occasionally did awesome stuff. See, one of my roommates -- the tallest and most gay, who I'll refer to as Jigglypuff for the sake of anonymity-- was scared of mice. And Jonathan capitalized on that fear. I assume he did so in order to further his Batman skills. Occasionally, Jigglypuff would let his guard down. Usually while watching TV or cooking. It was then that Jonathan would strike. He would run out, just long enough to be noticed, and then he'd be gone. This naturally led to Jigglypuff standing on chairs in the kitchen or on the couch cushions while I laughed in my room.

Jonathan was also full of hubris. This aspect of his personality is what ultimately led to his demise. One day, I entered the kitchen to find Jonathan just lying on the floor. Examining the scene using my incredible detective skills, I quickly figured out what happened. Jonathan had been running around the kitchen doing backflips when he got his foot caught in something sticky. Jonathan had tried to solve this problem as he solved all his other problems: by backflipping. This did not work and Jonathan ended up breaking his adorable little foot. Furious, he attempted to do an elbow drop onto the floor to defeat his sticky nemesis. This only got him more stuck. In a last ditch attempt to free himself, Jonathan pooped. I'm unsure as to the motivation behind this action, but I assume Jonathan thought that the sheer force of his poop would knock him loose. He was, of course, wrong. Mouse poop has almost no force behind it whatsoever. It's about as powerful as a very small raisin.

After making my observations, I scooped up Jonathan in a paper plate, put on some plastic gloves, took him to the bathtub and attempted to clean him with a wet q-tip. All of this made Jonathan very angry and he died. I'd offer a more thorough explanation but I really don't have one. He was perfectly fine, and completely clean so I put him outside next to a spoon full of peanut butter and told him to go live his life but he just decided to obstinate and die instead.

I guess he was kind of an asshole.