EEK 2

Yesterday's "Eek" blog reminded me that I once had another closer encounter of the mouse kind--this time when I was teaching. I was standing in front of the class talking when a number of the kids interrupted me, shouting, "Miss Evans! A mouse just ran behind you!"

Now, I just figured they'd gotten together before class and planned this as a ruse--a "let's fool the teacher"-kind of prank, pretending to see a mouse. But if this was a joke, they were pretty good at convincing me because some of the girls looked visibly shaken.

"Oh, you're just teasing," I initially responded.

"No! No! We're not! There really WAS a mouse that went across the floor behind you!" they insisted.

"Well, where is it now?" I asked.

"It went under your work table."

Okay, I'd play along with it. The work table was in the corner next to my desk. I had some books and papers stacked under it, but if there was a mouse there, I'd see it. --So, I walked over to the table, bent down to take a look, and--"Oh, my god! There really IS a mouse!"

I squealed and leaped atop a desk seat, then made the mistake of saying, "Extra credit to the first person who gets rid of it. Go down to the janitor's office and get a broom and something to catch it in." I figured we could sweep it in a box, maybe.

Well, to heck with the broom. Some cra-a-a-a-zy guy just rushed up to the table, dived under it, and, with his first attempt, caught the mouse with his bare hands!

"Get it out of here!" I ordered. "Take it outside and release it! Then go wash your hands!" God forbid if I'm responsible for spreading the bubonic plague to the whole school.

I wish I could remember which brave goofball came to my rescue that day. Some farm kid, I think. I'd like to thank him for saving my life and be a personal reference for him if he ever applies for an animal control job. Quite an impressive performance, I must say. And, of course, my own dramatic reaction was the main topic of hallway conversation the rest of the day. Academy Award material.

Another fringe benefit of retirement is no longer having a large audience around to witness my conniption fits.