Fugitive Mouse Holds Woman Hostage in Her Car

So there I was, minding my own business driving to work when the biggest mouse I ever saw popped its head out of my dash at the base of the windshield.

Normally, I am not afraid of mice. I’ve picked them up and feed them to snakes. Well, given it was the largest mouse in the free world, naturally I screamed like a little girl, which caused the mouse to go back into the dash. And I think to myself, this is not good. I’m wearing a dress and I dont want it to run up my bare legs.

The mouse pops out again. And there I was screaming like a girl again. Being a semi-intelligent women, I find a place to get off the road. I figure I’ll get the mouse out of my car. This cant possibly be difficult, right?

I get out of the car, open both doors and walk away for a bit. Obviously, the mouse wants out. Why else would it keep popping its head out? I had pulled into an orchard stand. Then I had another bright idea. I’m here, at a small orchard / farm, so there should be a cat around here somewhere. Umm… Apparently not all farms are equipped with cats, in case you ever need to know that handy piece of info.

After waiting about 15 minutes, I figure it should be safe to get back in the car. So I start back on the road heading to work before I am late. Well, dont ya know, that damn mouse popped its head out again. And guess what I did? Yep, screamed like a little girl.

Well, I decide I need to just suck it up so I’m not late for work. Yeah, that worked until the next time the mouse popped its head out. I scream, it ducks back behind the dash. Now typically, I’m fairly rational. However, when you are being terrorized by a mouse, rational goes out the window. So I’m driving down the highway now singing “Please dont come out little mousy. Please dont come out.” Take a wild guess as to how well that worked. Yeah… Not at all. He pops up, I scream, he ducks back behind the dash, and I sing my little mantra.

I’m halfway to the office now, pulling off the highway onto the shoulder. Why? Because there has to be a cop around here somewhere and he can shoot the mouse. I’m not joking. I wish I was. Apparently being trapped in a car with a mouse for 10 miles and I lose all rational thought.

So there I am, standing on the side of the highway, no cops in sight. I’ve got the passenger side door open, heat full blast, and radio full volume hoping it will just leave. I look at my watch and realize I have to go now or I will be later for work. I muster up all the backbone I could find and get back in the car with the damn mouse. Wanna guess what happens?

Yep, it pops its head out, I scream. It goes back behind the dash and a sing my mantra. Please dont come out little mousy. Please dont come out. I’m flying down the highway in excess of 100 mph when the limit is 55. Yeah, there’s that rational thought process kicking in. Find a cop by speeding or just get to work so I can get out of the car. Either way. Yes, I really was going to tell a cop to shoot my dash until the mouse was dead.

I finally make it to work with seconds to spare and of course a coworker promptly asks whats wrong. Needless to say there was much laughter. I left my windows down so the mouse could leave (yeah, I know… it didnt need the windows down to get in, but I’m traumatized at this point.)

One would think this should be the end of this story. But just in case I zip out at lunch and buy mouse traps and poison. One can never be too cautious with a fugitive mouse.

The end of the day rolls around and I jump in the car to head home. I figure the mouse should be long gone by now. I get on the highway, in the fast-lane and start heading home. Well, there is a section of highway that always has serious accidents and dont ya know that damn mouse not only came out just as I was in the turn of death, but it brushed up against my knuckles while running across the dash. I went from the fast lane to the right hand shoulder instantaneously in rush hour traffic. I was done. How no accident occurred is beyond me. I whipped that wheel when I felt the mouse. I came to a screeching halt on deaths corner and jumped out of the car.

Opening the passenger side door I reach for my cell phone. The very old kind of cell that had a cord and had to stay in the car. So I dialed my Mother (yes I called Mommy, in my mid 20s and I called my Mommy). I promptly burst into tears and tell her I cant drive the car any further and gave her the low down. After being such a supportive Mom and poking fun at me (ok, I would have poked fun too), she heads to my rescue. So I hang up the phone and look around in the car.

I could see the mouse was at my back window now, at the top of the back seats. Well, the semi intelligent usually rational women went right into homicidal deranged bat shit crazy psycho and I started pounding, in a fit of violent rage, on my back window with both fists screaming in the voice of Satan “Get out! Get the [email protected]&% out of my car now!”

Remember, I’m on the shoulder of a highway during rush hour. Traffic is a steady stream going by me. Does anyone stop? No. Does anyone call the cops on the clearly insane women on the shoulder. Nope, or maybe it was too much paperwork.

Eventually, the mouse exits my car through the open door. It is clearly bewildered I slam the door shut (yeah, I know, it didnt need the door open to get in) and try to shew the mouse away. My fit of violent rage starts to fade and I realize this is the smallest little tiny fuzzy brown field mouse I ever saw. Oh hell, how am I going to live this down?

So now the mouse it out, but Mommy is on her way… Hmmm… I better move the car up the highway a bit so the mouse doesnt get back into the car somehow. I wasnt taking any chances no matter how little, cute and fuzzy the mouse appeared. It terrorized me all day.

Ok, so now that I’m sitting in the car and behaving like a sane rational person would, a man stops to see if I need help. I managed to thank him and let him know I had help on the way. I didnt dare explain why I was sitting there on the side of the highway. If Mom had a cell phone I would have called to tell her I was no longer at def-con 5 and could drive my car again.