Last night, exhausted and a bit tipsy, I went to my kitchen sink and retrieved the defrosted dead mouse that I had put there in the morning. I ran the hot tap over the packet to warm the contents. I left it running at a good but warm temperature for a while. As I worked, the snake was round my neck, a smooth and pulsing living necklace, occasionally snuffling breath into my cheek.
I opened the packet in a way that I knew the crisp smell of mouse would hit the snuffly snake nose. It’s like opening the packet of coffee, I guess. You get a good strong hit of mouse. I wanted Hex to snuff his fill.
You never know what you’re gonna get in the packet. Mouse 1 had weird eyes and a bloody head. Mouse 2 had a prolapsed arsehole. I wouldn’t have eaten either of them, frankly. I was beginning to think that the missing 3% on the ingredients list (see blogs passim) was 3% ugly.
Mouse 3 blew that one out of the water. He was a higher quality of mouse altogether. I found myself optimistic. Maybe this time the anorexic snake would feast.
I got stuck in to Puppetry accompanied by a bemused kitcat and a snake wrapping itself firmly round my head.
Hex thinks I’m a shit puppeteer. If he was reviewing me in War Mouse I’d never work again. In fact I found this review yesterday morning nailed to my door, written in parseltongue: “The director’s choice to cast a mouse with a prolapsed arsehole for the leading character in “Dance of the ‘Eat Me’ rodent” was ill advised at best, and insulting at worst. The dialog was atrocious. ‘Yummy yummy yummy I’m not dead, I’m alive ooh tasty tasty yum yum.’ That is a genuine quote from the script, and this atrocious and manipulative writing is compounded by an insulting delivery in a crude falsetto that would be triggering to not only mice, but the whole rodent population, barring capybara.”
I tried chopsticks. Flying mouse held with marigolds. Crawly mouse walking backwards by tail. I spent ages. At one point the doorbell rang and it was the delivery guy. I ordered Chinese takeaway from “Mister Chinese” because I figured they’d be happy for the business what with all the ignorance. I took receipt of it with him on my head. With recently shed skin I didn’t want to pull him around too much, as his new skin is evidently much more sensitive.
After about an hour and numerous epic stories about mortality and the need to be consumed, I gave up. Sleep is precious and rare right now. I needed some.
I warmed up the dead mouse again by tap, and I chucked it in to his tank. He didn’t look at it even though it was the DiCaprio of dead mice. Disappointed. I went to bed.
In the night though, an epic battle took place. The morning found Hex sitting in his warmplace, having trashed his newspaper and soaked everything and thrown water everywhere. It was clearly a huge fight, between the dead mouse and the snake. But the snake won. Hex has eaten. Well done Hex.
I’ve had another crazy day but now I don’t have to write about it. Because my friend’s lovely snake ate.
Here goes another 4 hours sleep maximum. Bring it.