Marv Vs Mice

Marv rested on his hands and knees on the carpeted floor. His right hand was extended in front of him and was holding a string. The string was attached to a piece of cheese that was sitting on the floor in front of a hole in the wall. Marv was being very quiet.

The mice had moved in a month ago. Marv didn't mind at first. In fact, he had thought it was neat in some ways. Perhaps, he thought, the scurrying of little feet would get him used to the idea of having kids in the house. His girlfriend had been pressuring him to make some form of what she called 'serious commitment,' preferably the kind with a large, sparkly ring. Apparently this was some sort of new fad, Marv wasn't too sure. At any rate, the mice had begun to get on his nerves by eating sandwiches he left out when he went to the bathroom mid-meal and by making a mess of his meticulously clean house. The mice had to go.

Marv was a clever sop, just not very motivated. He could have easily advanced up the corporate ladder had he had the desire. But he had not. He only desired to make enough money to support his current living style. Now these mice, on the other hand, they had gotten Marv motivated.

He had devised a most devious plan. He was waiting just to the side of the mouse-hole with bait of the Old Cheddar variety. His plan was to lure the mice out of their hole with the cheddar. He stood ready with a small square of plywood to cover up the hole. He had left his front door wide open and it would be a simple matter to chase the small beast out into the yard whereupon he would shut and lock the door (as if locking made any difference; I said he was clever, not brilliant) and leave the pesky beasts to find a new way to make it by in the world.

Now, was the waiting game. Marv had hoped it could have worked sooner but he seemed to remember someone along life's journey telling him that patience was a great thing and that he ought to try it. And so, try it he would. Marv waited patiently... for the first five minutes. Every minute after that he became more and more bored.

Marv let his eyes wander as he thought about the amazing sandwich he planned to make once this was all over. Suddenly, something caught his eye. He couldn't believe his luck. It was a windy day outside and by some strange stroke of luck the wind had blown a hundred dollar bill right onto his front step. Abandoning the old cheddar Marv rose and went to retrieve his prize. He bent to pick it up but at just that moment a gust of wind blew it a little further from his reach. Not wanting to let such an unexpected twist of good fortune escape his grasp, he strove after it. The wind pulled it a few more paces before he managed to catch up with it.

Marv held the hundred-dollar bill up and smiled. Today was a good day. He was about to return to the mouse project when he noticed something strange. There was a three-foot-long piece of thread attached to the bill with a piece of clear scotch tape.

"That's strange," he thought to himself. Then he noticed something else. The bill was counterfeit. Suddenly, there was a loud slam from the house behind him. Marv turned and saw that his front door had been blown shut by the wind. He ran to it and tried the door handle. Locked. His day had quickly gone from great to very not great. Then he heard a tapping coming from the window to his right. He looked and saw two little white mice leaning against the glass. He wasn't sure but the thought they were laughing.

It all became suddenly clear. This was no stroke of luck; it was a plot, orchestrated by those furry fiends. They had used his very own plan against him, luring him outside with a bit of bait on a string. Marv cursed. He would have to break a window or something to get back in. Those mice would pay dearly for this. As he looked for a good place to break in to his own home one thing kept running through his mind: How had the mice made a counterfeit bill?

THE END