Death and Justice in my Kitchen

As the blinking white light of a florescent tube cut into the darkness of my kitchen I caught a reflection of myself in the window.
Naked, but for a pair of work boots, a child's fishing net in one hand and a 2.2 air pistol in the other.

There was one thing on my mind,.. Death.

I wasn't alone in the kitchen, but I wasn't going to leave till I was.

A week prior to my naked stand off, I had become aware of an unseen entity scratching around in our cavity walls.
With the TV on pause we would stand in silence following the ghostly movements across the ceiling, consoling ourselves that it was a trapped bird.
Maybe a cute little house sparrow, or a wren trying to find its way out.
Tiny and frightened.

One morning we found the Tea bag caddy had exploded. Looking at the mess spread across the kitchen work surface, I felt like a gypsy fortune teller.
The tea leaves began to spell out a terrible prediction, and it read,.

.. 'You have a Rodent in your House'.

Being a fair man, I decided to give our uninvited guest a choice.
I laid out a series of humane traps, baited with cheese and waited. A sort of rodent deportation.
This free spirit had after all just found a warm place to shelter or possibly raise its young, capitalising on the plentiful free food and housing.

Nothing.

Not doing itself any favours, not only did it choose not to be removed in one piece, it also decided to get into a drawer that contained every electrical charger I owned and chew through every last bit of cable.
I pod/ camcorder/ camera/ phone and my kids Nintendo were now all bereft of chargers and were going to cost me a fortune.

Now it was personal.

I had offered this intruder the option of rights, but here it was sticking two fingers up to the democracy that had offered it a simple way out. Biting the hand that feeds.

The next evening, our kitchen floor resembled a Tom and Jerry cartoon. A blanket of snap trigger lethal mouse traps covering the floor tiles.

I had seriously under estimated my foe.
It had taken cheese from 20 traps and managed to avoid the snapping jaws of death, this little mouse had some big balls.

A lot bigger than I had imagined too. As I was re-setting the traps I came face to face with the enemy.

12 inches long, big sharp white teeth and a long leathery tail.

RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The rat kept its cold black eyed stare for a few moments then shot under a kitchen unit.

The democracy that my house had strived to uphold had suddenly become a harsh dictatorship, and I was about to implement a Zero Tolerance policy for all offenders unwilling to live by its simple rules.

This was now a simple power struggle between Leader and insurgent.
Man against Rat.

The traps weren't working because they were too small, he was just batting them off like a mild irritant.
Spring loaded traps were put in place capable of killing a small dog.I smeared them in peanut butter and I waited.

My restless slumber was interrupted by the sound of snapping metal. With boots, fishing net and air pistol by the bedside for a quick response I hurried down stairs.

The Rats back leg and tail were caught in the trap and was now trying to make its escape under the kitchen unit again but unable to do so due to having a 6 inch bit of wood attached to its arse.

Looking into its pointy face, I could see its panic, a sudden empathy came over me seeing what I had done and the pain this poor creature was in.
He was no the longer elusive criminal, but a vunerable victim of my zero tolerance legal system.

I had to end what I started, I had to take the power back.
I was Stalin, I was Pinochet I was Margaret Thatcher, I was a naked man pointing an air rifle at a rats head.

'You were a worthy opponent,' I whispered, my finger resting on the trigger, 'Sorry, but you started it'

It was over very quickly as the pellet entered its skull.

Standing outside afterwards reflecting on the nights events, I saw myself as the victor having taken the power back, this was my home my castle..
Democracy had been restored, I was no dictator, I was just doing what had to be done.

With the cold October chill air on my bare balls I paid respect to my enemy and gave him a fitting final resting place, at the bottom of a wheelie bin, wrapped in newspaper inside a Super Drug neon pink carrier bag.

My poignant moment brought to a halt by my wife now standing behind me saying 'Put some bloody clothes on, you'll scare the neighbours'

And scared they should be.