I have a problem. And this problem is mice. Actually, I have two problems. Mice and mouse poop. And oh my gah don't even get me started about the mouse poop because I am vomitting in my mouth just thinking about it.
Because let me tell you something about myself. I might have a messy office. Maybe even a cluttered bedroom. But if the rest of my apartment isn't up to a particular standard, I get a little wigged out. And that standard is clean.
And with the amount of poop I've been cleaning, there must be at least sebenty nine crazillion mice because oh my gah the poop.
Now, under other circumstances, I'd be all oh the mice, they just need a home they're cute and harmless and blah blah blah. But those little feckers have pooped behind my microwave one too many times and when it comes to mouse poop, once is one too many times.
So I'm out to kill. I bought the traps, I set the bait, and I've waited. But the only thing I've caught is a Rooney, who by the way has proven that he can and will go to great lengths to get that tiny bit of cheese I've strategically placed inside the closet.
So why the feck won't these mice eat my cheese? If they don't eat my cheese and die already I am going to freak the heck out.
And this is the part where B is all don't you think you're overreacting a little? And I'm all if you don't shut the feck up and help me catch every last single one of these little poopers so help me god I'll cut you.