I have had the movie Paranormal Activity on our Netflix queu for what seems like an eternity. It finally came in the mail and I could hardly wait to watch this ghost movie that I had heard nothing but good things about.
So, picture it....last Friday night and the kids are in bed. I pop the DVD in and drag Tim to the sofa.
He hates these kinds of movies but he knows I'm a total wimp and I need him to be right there with me, in case I start hearing an annoying voice telling me to go into the light.
Plus, it makes him feel all manly at the thought of having to protect me. He didn't tell me that but a woman knows this kind of stuff, naturally.
We're watching the movie and it's getting creepier with each passing minute. I'm literally jumping off the sofa at certain points of the movie, while Tim's rolling his eyes.
Me: Oh my Gosh, the door opened and closed by itself!
Tim: Sweetie, this stuff is NOT real.
Me: Yeah it is! Mary said they used to live in a house that was haunted.
Tim: There are no such thing as ghosts. She probably had too much to drink that night or something.
Me: No, it wasn't just one night. The ghost was there, like, ALL. THE. TIME.
Tim: I'm telling you that there's no way...
Me: Shush, I'm missing the movie.
After about 10 minutes, he's starting to get into the movie...rewinding it every time I happened to miss something that the ghost did.
Tim: Wait...did you see the ghost's shadow on the door?
Me: No, what shadow?
Tim: Here, I'll rewind it....see, LOOK!
Me: Holy crap! This is really freaking me out.
Tim: Yeah, but you know it's not real.
As we're watching it, I'm throwing out questions left and right...
Me: How can they even sleep at all? Why don't they just do rotating shifts so one of them is awake at all hours of the night?
Me: I'm not done. I mean, why aren't they calling Good Morning America or John Edward? They'd be stupid not to seek professional help. The media would be all over this faster than I could finish a tub of ice cream!
Me: Shush...no more talking! Now you're just annoying me!
These exchanges continue until finally the movie is over, with such a horrifying, demonic ending it leaves me completely convinced I will have nightmares for the next 10 years.
Me: Oh man, that was SO freaky. I don't think I'll be able to sleep for the next decade.
Tim: Well, maybe we should take advantage of your insomnia.
Me: Good God, is that ALL you ever think about?! Never mind, don't answer that.
By this time, Landon has woken up and come downstairs to join in on the fun. He snuggles in with Tim on the sofa, while I run off to the bathroom to pee.
Just as I'm about to cop a squat, something big, black and hairy scurries across my feet. I scream as loudly and as violently as that chick, Katie, did at the end of the movie.
Me: OH. MY. GOD. OH. MY. GOD. THERE'S. A. FREAKIN. MOUSE. IN. HERE.
I run out of the bathroom to see Tim and Landon staring at me all wide-eyed and stunned.
Tim: Yeah, I saw it run out from under the door and into the laundry room.
Me: What? You saw it?
Tim: Yeah..sweetie, I've never heard you scream like that before!
Me: Not even during sex? Hmmm, I bet that's rather disappointing to you, isn't it?
Tim: You don't miss an opportunity, do you? At first, I thought you were joking around but that's when I saw it run out from under the door.
Me: Crap, crap, crappity, crap! We have to deal with this because I CANNOT sleep in a house where a mouse is freely roaming about.
Tim: Well, I thought we had already established that you weren't going to sleep anyway because of the movie.
Me: Will you PLEASE just catch the freakin' mouse?
Sensing that he was pushing my buttons and knowing full well that nothing good ever comes out of that, he grabbed the broom and opened the utility closet...and out came that disgusting mouse, taunting us as he fled by.
We both stood there frozen in place as the mouse squeezed himself underneath the dryer. Great...he was probably going back to his little colony to let them know that he had struck gold...a house full of kids who drop food all over the place and two parents who are too tired to bother with it.
Landon: You catch the mouse yet, Daddy?
Tim: Hey sweetie, look at how well I handle this big stick...impressive, isn't it?
Me: Uh, I'd be more impressed if you actually used it to get the mouse out of here rather than turn it into a phallic symbol.
This is when we decided to make good use of our fearless cat...who wasn't exactly wild about the idea. She'd eaten her fair share of birds for the day and wasn't exactly craving mouse a l'orange.
Tim shut himself in the laundry room with the mouse and the cat, assuming there would be a throwdown, while Landon stuck his nose under the door, asking repeatedly, "Daddy, you catch the mouse yet?"
No such luck with the mouse. But we did manage to find the colorless markers, a now-empty bottle of vinegar, a couple bibs, and my mini sewing kit...which I've never actually used.
Still, no sign of the dreaded mouse.
Tim: He probably found a hole in the dryer vent and crawled out that way.
Me: Is that supposed to make me feel better...because it doesn't.
Tim shrugs his shoulders, obviously at a loss.
Me: Great...so if he can get OUT that way, imagine all the other mice that can get IN the same way.
Tim: Oh yeah, hadn't thought of it like that.
Me: Well, of course you didn't. I mean, how could you when 99.9% of your brain's functioning is being consumed in order to pump blood down to your penis 24 hours a day?
So he hunted down the sticky traps that the exterminator had left behind, like, 6 months ago. And he plastered them around the walls and the door, leading into the laundry room.
We never did catch the mouse...and the next morning I walked into the laundry room and got one of my feet stuck on a sticky trap.
Damn mouse. He better not show himself around here again. This means war.
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