Of Mice and Men - Episode 1: Mickey. And Friends (maybe).

You know how you go to Disney World when you're a kid and you come home and tell all your friends that you met Mickey? Yeah I don't know either. I've never done that. I imagine some people do that though. But I digress. Yesterday I met Mickey. NOT at Disney World. At the art centre. And folks, my Mickey is not a cute mouse with a red shirt. My Mickey is a rat. As rats go, he's not particularly large, but he is at least 6 inches excluding his long tail, and that's way bigger than I prefer. In fact, truthfully, I prefer rats to be non-existent. Or at least to not exist where I'm existing. I hadn't been out to the art centre since early December due to my recent visit to the States. I brought back all these fun art supplies from the States - pom poms, Aleene's craft glue (LOVE that stuff), a ridiculous amount of pipe cleaners (I'll post pictures later of exactly what those pipe cleaners are used for), a huge stack of construction paper, stickers, paint, and some super cool googly eyes. Thanks Tonya, Mrs. Jan, Diane, Samantha, Brenna, and Della for the fun art stuff! You guys are champs. Anyway, back to Mickey...the art centre is probably one of my favorite places to be, so I was pretty excited to get back there with all of these great new supplies. After being dropped off by the taxi, Amy, Jenna, and I hiked through the neighborhood, past giant heaps of trash (emitting some delightful odors...), past the butcher shop with bloody handprints all over the wall, up the dark stairwell, and to the door of the centre. As Amy unlocked and began opening the door, a stench assaulted our olfactory senses. Through the crack in the door, we could see that the checkerboard tile floor was covered with random bits of trash, and a torn-up, dirty rag was lying in the doorway. "Eww what's that?" "Ugh it stinks" and "Where'd the trash come from" were quickly replaced with sharp gasps as the door swung fully open. I am not sure that words could describe the sight before us. We stepped through the doorway, groaning, cautiously trying to avoid the rat droppings that covered the floor. "MICKEY!" "That RAT!" We realized we had apparently hosted a visitor in our absence. (This particular visitor had been to the art centre before and received the name Mickey...) We spread out, trying to assess the damage, and periodic shrieks, gasps, and groans filled the air as we found proof after proof that our visitor's intentions were probably not honorable. The reading nook under the window, full of cozy cushions for lounging and a brightly colored rug, was destroyed. Almost every cushion had multiple holes chewed into it, and the stuffing had been pulled out and strewn across the rug. The curtain across the window had a hole that was at least 8 inches in diameter. The craft room fared no better. Mickey ate the walls! Or scratched holes into the sheet rock. Flecks of green paint mixed with sheet rock dust covered one corner of the room. The book shelf was full of rat droppings, along with every other surface in the centre. I peeked into the kitchen to survey the damage there: food wrappers all over the floor, holes in almost every package, candles knocked over, a lot more droppings. This was getting personal - I had organized and arranged the kitchen just to my liking right before I came back to the States, and Mickey had destroyed it. I left Amy and Jenna sweeping the floor and went in search of rat poison. Mickey was going to regret his field day in my kitchen. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts at acting out a rat, I finally learned the arabic word for rat and the store owner told me he was out of poison. At the next store, I said "There is a rat in my apartment." (I was still unsure of the word for poison) To which the owner replied, "Ok. What do you want?" What do I want??? Only in Egypt do you explain that you have a rat in your apartment and someone asks you what you want to do about it...I slid my finger across my throat as though I was cutting it and crossed my eyes. He got the picture, and I got the poison. Back at the centre, I slipped into the bathroom to see if the rat had gotten in there. More trash and nastiness covered the floor, but the worst was the toilet. "AMY!!" "What now???" I motioned to the toilet and she peeked in: worms. Loads of worms, all in the toilet. I haven't a clue how or why they were there, but the only thing worse than the worms in the toilet was the dried puddle of rat blood on the floor. Not really sure what happened there, but I'm hypothesizing that perhaps Mickey had some friends. I didn't have my camera on hand, but Amy and I are headed back this week, armed with a few bottles of Clorox, so if I can get them uploaded, pics will follow...OH! Forgot to mention that in the midst of the sweeping process, Mickey made an appearance. It was a day to remember, and to wish to forget.