The Serpent and The Chimp woke up very excited. They had decided to live together, so they were moving The Chimp’s things to The Serpent’s house-barn in the country. They ate oatmeal, loaded all of The Chimp’s belongings onto The Serpent’s back, and began their long journey home. It was a very long journey. First they missed the bus, then they missed the ferry, and then they paid $3.65 for Mr. Noodles. It took the whole day to get home. They were both tired, hungry, and a little cranky when finally they arrived at the barn. All they wanted to do was slither into bed and say goodnight. But when The Serpent opened his door he found a very distressing scene. It seemed Mr. Moucifer had thrown a mouse party in The Serpent’s absence, and left little kernels of evidence all over the house. There was poop on the table, poop on the fridge, poop on the counter, and poop all over the gigantic pile of dirty dishes. There was poop on the bookshelf, poop on the couch, and The Chimp discovered Mr. Moucifer had even pooped while he slept in the bed. There was nothing that didn’t have poop on it. It was a very large party indeed. Realizing they couldn’t touch anything, and had nowhere to sleep, without getting all poopy, The Serpent and The Chimp set about cleaning up after the messy little mice.
“I set some live traps before I left” The Serpent told The Chimp. “Mr. Moucifer is just too clever. And I don’t like using death traps. It’s not very sporting.”
They continued cleaning long into the night, and even began to see humour in their situation. It was after all, The Chimp’s first night living in the barn. After a few hours The Serpent suggested they take a break. The couch was clean by then, so they had a place to relax. He went to his secret stash of homemade chocolates for a treat to cheer up The Chimp, only to find Mr. Moucifer had a sweet tooth. “Funk and Wagnall’s!” cried The Serpent, adding with a hiss, “I’ll kill the motherfather.”
The Serpent was especially upset about this. He’s a chocolate miser, and those special homemade chocolates can only be acquired once a year. It would be almost twelve months before he could get more. So he went to the cupboard and produced a rusty old blood stained guillotine, and smearing it with peanut butter said, “Let’s see our little friend outsmart this shall we?”
The next six nights were dark ones for the local rodent community. One soft, doe eyed cutie was killed each night. Bodies were piling up outside. The Serpent justified this killing spree with a twisted Darwinian logic.
“It’s survival of the fittest” he explained to a distraught The Chimp. “By pooping where we eat and sleep the mice were, in effect, attacking us, biologically, and we have a right to defend ourselves.” The Chimp was convinced, but The Serpent suspected it was just because she too loves chocolate. After a week of deaths word had gotten out. Mice stopped coming to the barn, and things began to go back to normal. The two lovers continued to scour and disinfect every cubic inch of their nest until it was almost safe to eat crumbs off the floor again, and as the weeks went by they even caught up on all the dirty, poopy laundry. Intimacy flourished once more, and they began acting as two honeymooners should; kissing, snuggling, and watching old episodes of Arrested Development, without a care in the world. At least not about rolling around in crumbly bits of feces.
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