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Friday, Aug 27, 2004
Varmint
I blame JimL and his lurid tales of rodent abattoirs.
I was walking in the kitchen, and the floor began collapsing under my heels, in linear patterns. This is a familiar feeling, as D's plot in the mountains is shared with a gopher colony. While ambling about, I often feel gopher tunnels just below the surface compressing under foot.
By invading the kitchen, these varmints had gone too far. Luckily I had a shovel handy, and began digging up the floor, trying to catch one in the act. I made quick work of the floor, and soon had a shallow pit, from which a few deeper tunnels radiated. A bit beyond my reach, in one of the deeper tunnels, a furry little face appeared, snickered at me in a mocking tone, and then was hidden by a quick flutter of paws resealing the opening.
"God damn you little fucker, undermining my kitchen floor! I'm coming after you, you little flea covered pelt! You fucked with the wrong man, varmint."
That's when he charged. Several ounces of furry fury flew up at me. I stunned him with the shovel, and pinned him down with my work boot. That's when I called the critters over to finish him off, as sort of a predator refresher course. The cats looked at me like, "Yeah, right. We don't work here." Even Louie the Catahoula, fully qualified to hunt wild boar, stood his ground. I looked down, and just then noticed that this aggressive little rodent had misshapen horns on its head, and emitted strange rasping noises as it struggled to free itself.
"Fine, I'll finish him myself." I wailed on him with the shovel, careful not to take a chunk off my own foot. A horrible, guttural howl and shriek came out of this devil gopher, not from pain, but from anger. He struggle to turn and bite me with his hideous jagged teeth. I had about enough of this, and resolved to asphyxiate the creature, with something, I wasn't sure what. Perhaps a overturned casserole?
Then NPR intruded on my conciousness, and I opened my eyes.