It's the sound of metal rubbing on metal. Or maybe a frustrated teacher impatiently rephrasing new notes onto a blackboard. It could be the heater kicking on on this frigid day. Oh, it's a mouse stuck in a trap.
A mouse was struggling to free itself from one of the office glue traps. It's whole left back was stretched and flat against the side of this newfound shelter. Like a furry little carny, taking a ride on the Round Up, having the centrifugal force smushing him against the wall.
I sympathized for the two beady eyes that stared back at me. Frightened but ready to fight, his paws stood firm. Although that may have been the industrial grade glue forcing him to maintain such poise in the face of an intimidating human. His fierceness was lessened by his left cheek being stretched and attached to the wall. Was this one of nature's scare tactics? The hissing of a snake, the bright colors of a poisonous tree frog, the dilophosaurus ready to spit in my face? His face was just glued to the wall.
I bought a small 16 oz. bottle of Red & White Premium Quality vegetable oil at the corner bodega. I brought the mouse outside and sat on the curb with the mouse problem in front of me. He started freaking the fuck out when I poured vegetable oil on him. I gently rubbed and he tried to bite me, his teeth grabbing only the latex gloves I had put on. The oil worked itself in and he was saved from a slow death. He quickly sprinted straight across the street. I was afraid he might get smushed by a car. I discarded the gloves and now useless mouse trap.
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