The Mouse Commandos vs. The Home Improvement Ninja

I killed all the mouse commandos that invaded the ninja fortress. It’s been a couple of months since I’ve seen the last of them, so now I can write calmly about the story. I mentioned previously about my mouse problem at the ninja fortress, but never got around to finishing the story. To understand why I hate the mouse intruder (Sho Kosugi) and his band of mouse commandos so much, you’ll need a little background me. So I need to explain a little bit of my love affair with bacon, and my hatred of germs, and why I don’t sleep with hookers in Amsterdam.

First the bacon:
100 years from now, when historians, literature professors, or hausfraus who read romance novels will discuss the greatest loves of all time, they will throw out names like “sir Lancelot and Gweneviere”, “Romeo and Juliet”, “Tristan and Isolde”, and “Home Improvement Ninja and Bacon”. As a ninja, I respect bacon’s deadliness. But as a mortal, I can’t help but love her. If there was no such thing as cholesterol, I would eat bacon at every meal. I would put it on my cereal in the mornings, I would have it for lunch in a BLB sandwich (that’s bacon, lettuce and bacon), then I would have it at dinner in a bacon and mozzarella casserole (a dish that I would’ve invented if cholesterol didn’t exist). This is why I could never convert to Judaism or Islam. Any religion that forbids me from being with the love of my life is not one that I can practice. Nothing can separate us!!!

Now the Germs:

I have a “thing” about germs. I keep hand sanitizer in my desk drawer and use it every time I shake hands with someone. I can’t do it at meetings, so when I shake hands at a meeting with several people, for the rest of the meeting I’ll keep my right hand as far away from the rest of me as I can without attracting attention to myself until I can get back to my office and use the sanitizer to get the germs of the great unwashed offa’ me. During the entire meeting, all I can think about is how much germs these people must have. Well, I think about that and bacon, of course. .

My germ phobia is the source of jokes sometimes by those that are close to me and pretend to be my friends. (real friends don’t make fun of your weaknesses. Lois Lane never teased Superman about Kryptonite). One incident which is relevant to the story, is when I went to Amsterdam with Dirty Dave (real nickname) and [Redacted] (name changed because he’s married and his wife might find this blog). [Redacted] was going to Amsterdam on business so he had a niiiiice hotel room that was paid for, and Dirty Dave and I decided to go because all we had to do was buy the plane tickets.

Since [redacted] was on business most of the day, Dave wanted me to go so that we can do cool stuff in Amsterdam. And since I don’t smoke pot (as far as you know), by “cool stuff” I mean going to museums and looking at canals and shit (that’s my story and I’m sticking to it).

Dirty Dave is a unique individual. Sui generis. Dirty Dave’s theory on cheating on your girlfriend: “hey man, if you’re wearing a condom, then, technically, you’re not even touching her”

Dirty Dave’s theory on hookers. “with a regular girl, if you use the wrong fork at dinner, she might not fcuk you, but with a hooker, you could show up with your balls smelling like balsmamic vinegar and she’ll do you.” (for the record, Dave is currently going through a divorce).

Dirty Dave is fun to hang out with, because there is nothing he won’t do in the name of comedy, no matter how disgusting. For instance, if we’re at a party and someone leave’s their drink unattended, Dave will say something like “stand in front of me, I’m gonna teabag that guy’s drink”, then, without anyone noticing, will grab the drink, unzip his pants and dip his testicles into the drink. Dave’s (now)ex-girlfriend saw him do it at a party once. Rather than be embarrassed about it, like a normal person, he laughed and said “forget about roofies, THAT’s why you should always keep an eye on your drink.” In Dave’s view he was performing a public service by forcing people to guard their drinks. Anyway, I could go on, but the rest of my Dirty Dave stories aren’t fit for mixed company.


Now the hookers in Amsterdam

So the three of us are in Amsterdam and I see him talking to a hooker in the redlight district. His arms are gesticulating wildly, so I can tell he is negotiating. Dave is an incurable bargain hunter and haggles about the price of everything, even deviant sex. I bet that his greatest regret in the afterlife will be that death deprived him of the opportunity to haggle with the funeral parlor over the price of his own casket. After a while he comes back and announces that he’s got us a great group discount for the hooker and wants to know who wants to go first.

Ninja: You two do it, I don’t want to.

Dave: What the fuck, dude! She’s hot! She looks like Britney Spears. (actually, she looked like Britney’s older, skankier sister, if Britney had a sister in Amsterdam who turned tricks and gave group discounts).

Ninja: Dude, I don’t even like to use a public toilet, I definitely don’t want to use a public va-jay-jay.

Dave: Look man, this is Amsterdam, that mean’s she’s been tested. It’s perfectly safe…I’ll prove to you it’s okay. I’ll go first.

Ninja: why does you going first make it LESS disgusting? Public toilet…remember?

Dave: Okay, you go first!

Ninja: How about I don’t go at all.

Dave: Look asshole, I worked out a group rate for the three of us, and if you don’t want to go then she’s gonna either raise the price on me and [redacted] or one of us will have to go twice.

[Redacted]: okay…I’ll go twice. First and last. But don’t do anything too disgusting to her in between, because I’m going after you.

Ninja: Don’t do anything too disgusting? You realize that you’re going after Dirty Dave, right? You’ve seen what he does to unattended drinks, what do you think he does with hookers?

Back to the Bacon:
So one day, I made bacon in the usual manner (meaning that I cook an entire packet of bacon and eat it all in one sitting). The pan was full of bacon grease and bacon bits, so I left it on the stove and overnight, the grease gelled and solidified.

The next morning I saw the most disgusting thing in the world in the solidified bacon grease: footprints. Little tiny footprints. I almost threw up. I cleaned the skillet and left rubbing alcohol in it, but I still can’t bring myself to use it, even thought it’s been a couple of months. I would throw it away if I hadn’t payed a meelyun dollars for it at Williams and Sonoma. Maybe if I stick it in ground zero of a thermo nuclear reactor, I’ll be able to eventually bring myself to eat off it….probably not. Maybe I’ll give it away to someone that I dislike.

So knowing how I feel about germs and my bacon, you KNOW I had to kill this mouse in the most disgusting way possible. I thought about some of those sonic things that people recommended. They supposedly emit a sound that humans can’t hear, but drive mice away. It sounded like a good idea, but I didn’t want the mouse commandos to get away with what they did. I wanted to make an example of them. When other mice think of invading the impenetrable fortress, I don’t want them to say “Yeah, the food’s good in there, but it’s the noise will drive you crazy. It’s like going to a rave or a Celine Dion concert. “ I want them to say “don’t even think about it. No one’s ever gone in there and lived to tell about it. I don’t know how they died, but I know it involved horrible screams and pleas for mercy which went unheeded.”

So I went to the Hardware store on 17th. And I found out all there was to know about mouse traps. I liked the snap traps because the glue traps suck and won’t can’t anything, except for the most naïve mice, who will fall for anything (including a large plastic tray of glue). But this mouse had penetrated the ninja fortress with a crack squad of highly trained mice commandos, so I needed some heavy artillery.


They had the plastic snap traps, which allow you to dispose of the mouse without getting anywhere near touching it, but when I stuck my finger in it, it didn’t feel strong enough to kill a mouse commando. So I opted for something stronger, the old-fashioned snap traps. The wood ones with the metal bars. As I was seeing how to set it, I accidentally caught myself and it hurt like a mo-fo so I knew that it’s the one I wanted. I figured if I can hurt myself with it by accident, think about the damage I could do when I use it on purpose!!!

I was doing fine until some moron hipster animal lover wanted to stick her patchouli smelling two cents in.

Crazy: You should try one of those no-kill mouse traps.

Ninja: why would I want to do that?

Crazy: So the mouse doesn’t suffer. You can catch him and release him alive.

Ninja: What if I want him to suffer. Not just die, but actually suffer. What if I don’t want to release him alive, what if I want to drink a glass of beer over his mutilated corpse.

Crazy: that’s just sick, why would you want it to suffer.

Ninja: Because I love bacon and I don’t fcuk hookers in Amsterdam!!! THAT’S WHY!!!

Anyway, I killed every mouse commando, but here was their leader. Lieutenant Colonel Sho Kosugi. You were good, man…but I was better.


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COMING SOON: I was finally able to upload the pic of my orange turtleneck sweater, so next week I will post it and you can vote on whether it's gay or european.