M-I-C-K-E-Y....GET THAT FUCKING THING OUT OF MY HOUSE!

If you are eating, I am warning you, please put your food down. What you are about to read could make you throw up in your shoe. Actually, scratch that. It will undoubtedly make you throw up in your shoe.

Sunday morning I woke up from my self imposed "night off". It's amazing how a night of not turning tricks will make you feel refreshed. I got out of bed, stretched, and inhaled deeply. There was a slight foul odor in my room. I looked around making sure I didn't by accident leave an empty or half empty pizza boxes scattered in my room. Hey, it's been known to happen.

I kind of dig through my laundry on the floor a bit. Not dirty laundry. Clean laundry. You see, I have this thing. I'm messy. Not dirty (Well, a little dirty, but the good kind), but messy. I will do laundry, but then leave it in my laundry basket until I have to dig through it for clean underwear. That's the motherfucking high life right there, I tell you.

So I kick around my clean laundry a bit, and take one more glance around the room before I head into the shower for a boozy brunch with my friend. $15 "all you can drink"--clearly they have never met me before. I digress. As I am going to leave determined to show them what "all you can drink" means to me, I turn off my A/C which has been blasting air all night since it's about 175 degrees here now. I leave my apartment.

About 2.5 hours and 5 or 6 Bloody Mary's later, I am greeted at my door by a blast of warm, sticky, putrid air. Seriously. It smells like hot garbage in my apartment. I mean, I bet you could use Lindsay Lohan's vag as an air freshener, and it would smell better than this shit. I am convinced I have eaten a live salmon or something while drunk, and left the remains in my bedroom under my pillow or something. I go in and attempt to follow the stench.

I turn on my A/C again thinking that will clean out the air. I notice out of the corner of my eye there is something on my wall, right below the outlet. I adjust my eyes. Then I see it.

You see that? That ain't Mickey Mouse folks. That's a really dead, electrocuted mouse. And it's in my bedroom. Did I mention it smells like hot garbage?

I have yet to utter a sound. I run back into my living room, and immediately look who is online. The only friend that lives somewhat close to me is Flop. Flop calms me down and tells me not to touch the thing, dial 311 (like a step down from 911 here), and have them come over to remove the mouse. Cause you know, I don't want to end up like my little friend here, shitting all over myself as I have 8 million volts cook me alive.

I call 311. A nice lady answers, and I immediately start shouting. Those of you who have heard me speak know my voice is already like nails on a chalkboard. When I get excited, it gets louder and goes up about 8 octaves. I'm pretty sure I broke every piece of glass within a 2 mile radius with my shrieking.

Megan : THEREISADEADMOUSEINMYELECTRICALSOCKETANDIDONT
WANTTOGETITOUTORIWILLELECTROCUTEMYSELF!
Operator: I'm sorry?
Megan [deep breath]: There is a dead mouse in my electrical socket. I don't want to remove it and get electrocuted!
Operator: [gasps]
Megan: I know!
Operator: I feel so bad!
Megan: I know!
Operator: For the mouse!
Megan: Wait, what?

The operator then tells me that any removal of dead animals from private property is the responsibility of the super/landlord. Yeah, uh one thing though. My super isn't answering his phone. And my landlord uses a management company. It's Sunday. No one is fucking working.

I ask her if she can make an exception since my safety is at risk. "I have to check with my supervisor," she tells me, "Please hold."

She comes back two minutes later, "Ma'am I'm sorry. We can't do anything." She wishes me her best, and we hang up.

Ohfuckingjesuschristimgoingtohavetotakethisthingoutmyself.

I call my super one last time to leave another rather panicked message. This time he picks up, but informs me he won't be back into the city until 9pm or 10pm. In "super talk" that mean I probably won't see him til 1pm the next day. It's 4pm. Dickwad.

I IM Flop again. He reminds me to only use wood (thanks, Flop), and to be very very careful. I grab a wooden spoon and a rubber spatula, put on my flip flops (don't they always tell you to wear rubber shoes?), hold my breath and go to work.

In case you can't tell from the picture, the little guy really got himself wedged in there. The only part of him showing is his ass, his tail, and his left leg. The rest of him was wedged behind the socket on the right (Note: for some reason or another, a cover was never put over the socket since I've been living here for about 2 years. I just figured they didn't make that configuration cover). I go to touch him with the spoon...I make contact...

AND HIS FUCKING SKIN FALLS OFF.

That little fucker was fucking decomposing. IN MY BEDROOM. No wonder it fucking smelled so badly. I seriously want to throw up knowing that thing was crawling around possibly at nice over my face while I was sleeping peacefully. What if that shit caught on fire and I died? It would be a death by mousing.

Anyways, after his skin falls off, I do another squeal and run in place for like 5 seconds. You know, what chicks and really pussy guys do when they encounter something gross. I run back into the living room.

I then try calling everyone in my phone. Well not the girls, but literally every guy. I'm all for feminism til it's something I don't want to do. Then I'll be the first one saying, "But I'm a giiiirllll. I don't waaannnnnaaa."

When no one immediately responds, I start calling friend's for their boyfriends help. The only one I can get a hold of is my friend Chris. I tell her the story, and beg her to "let" her boyfriend come over and help me. While she is equally as horrified as I am, she informs me that her boyfriend is studying for the bar.

Don't these people have any fucking priorities? I'm dying over here.

I call my super one last time, BEGGING for him to come sooner. He says he will "see what he can do." Dickwad.

I return to Flop. My last chance at any kind of help. I offer him what any girl would do in my situation. Not sexual favors, no. Money. He kindly offers to come over free of charge as long as I "keep working on the thing." [Fingers crossed behind my back]. Sure, Flop, no problem. I then do the usual chick thing, "No Flop. You don't have to. I'll find someone else. [SIGH]" Flop in turn replies, "I'm leaving in 5 minutes. I'm not going to fight for the privilege of rodent dislodgement activities."

Ha.

So he comes over about 15 minutes later, and I'm telling Megan on the phone what is going on by giving her the comparison of the image of the mouse's skinless body to a raw chicken breast. But darker. I hang up with her.

Flop comes with me into my apartment. I make sure to walk before him with air freshener to make sure he doesn't smell 100% pure hot decomposing mouse garbage. He takes one look at the thing and says, "I ain't getting that shit out. Let's go get a beer."

Flop is nice enough to keep me company for a bit, until my super randomly calls back. "I'm upstairs," he tells me, "come on up." I swear to god I was like Mighty Mouse (HA!) out of that door. And yes, I do have the most wonderful, shady bar directly below my apartment.

I meet my super upstairs, open the door, and he grimaces at the smell. "See?" I say. He puts on his gloves, turns off the remaining electrical circuits that might give him a shock, goes over to my dead friend, grabs him by the tail and yanks him out in one shot.

And that's the end. The most traumatic moment of my life over in 10 seconds. What am I doing tonight? Re-washing all the clean laundry that was on my floor, as well as my sheets, and dry cleaning my comforter. I slept on the couch last night in fear. Every slight movement from the cars outside had me convinced my little friend had come from the afterlife to seek his revenge.

And to the hero of the story, Flop, my only friend in my time of need, I dedicate this song to you. Without you, I might still be sitting in an apartment with dead things in it.

There's a hero
If you look inside your heart
You don't have to be afraid
Of what you are
There's an answer
If you reach into your soul
And the sorrow that you know
Will melt away

[Chorus:]
And then a hero comes along
With the strength to carry on
And you cast your fears aside
And you know you can survive
So when you feel like hope is gone
Look inside you and be strong
And you'll finally see the truth
That a hero lies in you

It's a long road
When you face the world alone
No one reaches out a hand
For you to hold
You can find love
If you search within yourself
And the emptiness you felt
Will disappear

[Chorus]

Lord knows
Dreams are hard to follow
But don't let anyone
Tear them away
Just hold on
There will be tomorrow
And in time
You'll find the way

[Chorus]

Thank you, Flop. Thank you.