Gummi Mice

By Cyberquill 05/29/201012 Comments

Last night I, once again, barged into my kitchen unannounced—calling ahead prior to changing locations within my own abode is a habit I have yet to adopt—and in so doing I rudely interrupted a cute little mouse during its preliminary inspection of a piece of pie which had been left unattended on the counter.

Although I cat scant resemblance to a bear … let’s try this again … although I bear scant resemblance to a cat and, to the best of my recollection, neither meowed, hissed, purred, nor licked myself on entrance, poor little Mickey or Minnie panicked as he or she noticed my presence, turned tail, performed an obvious miscalculation with respect to brake speed and counter friction, tumbled over the counter’s edge, landed on his or her spine on the tile floor beneath, instantly bounced back on his or her four little feet, and zipped into the sunset—under the fridge, to be precise—never to be seen again.

The trespassing quadruped, I would guesstimate, measured roughly three inches in length if it were to stand on its hind legs. My kitchen counter is exactly 36 inches high—a mensuration I performed for the purpose of composing this official report (using measuring tape, not Tampax, although the term may understandably precipitate split-second confusion in the precipitate reader)—which works out to approximately twelve times the height of the rodent (whom, alas, I’d had no opportunity to mensurate, so my uneducated non-veterinarian approximation will have to do).

As per my passports, I am six foot tall. (Regarding the plural, I suppose it should be feet, but since congenital Americans, for whatever reason, keep saying foot even when referring to more than one such unit of length, I have reluctantly resolved to bow to local convention lest I be chided for mulish refusal to assimilate.) Although I’ve never performed the experiment and have no plans to volunteer—at least not until Obamacare kicks in and turning one’s skeleton into sawdust has become an affordable venture—I would guess that if I plunged a distance of twelve times my height, i.e., a distance of 72 feet, which amounts to several stories (floors, not tales), and hit an unyielding surface back first, I would not spryly leap back on my feet and zip anywhere anytime soon.

Thus I conclude, with as scientific a reasoning as I can muster based on my observed datum, that mice are made of whatever gummi bears are made of.


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  • Peter Practice

    Uneducated in veterinarian skills as you are, how can you be sure it was a mouse? Perhaps it was *indeed* a gummi bear. They come in various sizes, shapes, and colors, you know.


    • Cyberquill

      Impersonating a NYC mouse is a serious offense. If your hypothesis shakes out, Haribo could get into a lot of hot legal water over this.

  • Thomas Stazyk

    Glad to hear from you again! First, know what you mean about the six feet vs. six foot phenomenon. There are an amazingly large number of dialects in US English and that is a regional thing. Like the way people near Washington call it Warshington. In the interior, there are people who when they have a shirt that needs to be ironed, for example, will say “My shirt needs ironed.” Economical use of words I guess.

    Second, what are you going to do about the mouse. We are having a war on the farm, the current body count is four (all mice so far).

    • Cyberquill

      Outen the lights. U.S. regionalisms with respect to original settling patterns are fascinating, but despite greater geographical expanse, the language over here is still far more uniform than in England. Or so I’ve been told. I’ve personally been to California and back, but I never made it north of London. Judging from the British parliament sessions on C-Span, however, the dialect situation over there seems completely out of control.

      What am I going to do about the mouse? Nothing. My domestic rodent sightings have remained fairly static over the years, no more than a handful per year. Should the population suddenly mushroom, I’ll get a pet cobra or something. I think they sell ’em on eBay. (I’m allergic to cats.)

  • Andreas

    So you … left a piece of PIE in your kitchen?!

    You should be eating organic, locally grown fruits and leafy vegetables, not lining the pockets of big high-fructose-corn-syrup ag.

    Would the Gummi Mouse have attacked some leftover arugula?

    • Cyberquill

      Your subtle admonition is predicated upon two flawed premises:

      (1) For inscrutable reasons, you appear to be assuming that I can afford to live alone. Unfortunately, my dream of domestic solitude had to give way to this pesky scourge called reality a long time ago. (I merely stated that the pie had been left out on the counter, not that it was I who had left it there.)

      (2) Although this probably wasn’t one of them (since it belonged to my roommate, I hadn’t performed as close an inspection of it as did the mouse), there are pies made from organic and locally grown ingredients, sweetened with honey, stevia, or xylitol in place of high-fructose corn syrup.

  • Thomas Stazyk

    Dialects remind me of accents, so this is sort of on point. Plus as a German speaker I thought you’d enjoy this. In fairness, when I moved down here I got a hearing test because I thought I was going deaf because I couldn’t understand what people were saying.

    • Cyberquill

      Interesting. Accents aside, I have no idea what Bieber has to do with basketball, so I’d have been no less at sea there than poor little Justin. The German Biber (no “e”) means beaver. I wonder if beavers are made out of gummi, too. (Depends on the type, I guess.)

  • Thomas Stazyk

    Don’t ask me why, but I was having a look at a book called More Cunning Than Man by Robert Hendrickson. It is about rats. It says that a rat can fall 60 feet and land on it’s feet and live. Mice, presumably lighter and more aerodynamic, can probably fall even farther. Ergo you may add rats to the taxonomy of gummi creatures.

    • Cyberquill

      Why were you having a look at a … oh, you said don’t ask. Sorry.

      Obviously, humans are made of a different material then. I suppose the Creatress wanted us to sustain injury more easily than rodents, and so She made our bodies more fragile.

      If I turned toward the heavens and demanded a reason, I’d probably get Don’t ask Me why for an answer.

      • Thomas Stazyk

        I’ve had the book laying around for years and was checking to see if it talked about rodent control techniques, which I have a need for of late. Don’t ask.

        Anyway, it’s a terrifyingly interesting book. Did you know that there is something called a Rat King which is made up of a bunch of big rats who tie their tails together and operate as a unit? There is some question as to whether they do the tying or just get stuck somehow. But you could Google it if you don’t believe me.

        If you look at the pictures, I think it supports your gummi theory because it looks like what happens when gummi candies get stuck in the bottom of the box.

        • Cyberquill

          It’s not a theory. It’s a fact. I saw it with mine own windows to the soul.

          No snakes in New Zealand, so you guys are swamped with rodents. Betcha it doesn’t say that in your tourism ads.

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