Thursday, July 21, 2011

Mouse in H/T Overpants/Rescued by Matt and Sam Elliot

July 12, 2011

I'm sitting on the ground next to the shipping desk behind the parts counter. On a cold, cement floor. I'm inspecting a pair of H/T Overpants to see where the warranty issue is. I'm thinking to myself: I hope there's not a mouse in these pants (since I'm on the ground). Suddenly (of course) a mouse pops out of the right leg facing me and kind of lunges out. I stand up and scream. Several times. Loud (it reminded me of a lifeguard's whistle, short loud bursts of screams). It takes a while but finally Matt comes back and asks what I'm freaking out about and I tell him about the mouse. He rolls his eyes like it's not a big deal ('cause he's a mister tough-guy). He asks me in a  condescending tone, "why didn't you just call Service?". I tell him "Because you always rescue me." (He really does. If I have an issue with anything, he fixes it, no questions asked.)
He rolls his eyes again and tells me to call the dog from service (we don't have a dog at our shop). 
Time Warp
A mangy, scroungy medium sized dog with straggly dusty blond greasy hair walks out of the service department into the covered bike storage area just  outside of the parts department.
Time Warp
I'm back in the same place I was at the beginning of the dream: standing in front of the shipping desk. Actor Sam Elliot walks in from the room between service and parts and casually walks towards me. He asks about the mouse. Matt is there still and says "here's your real hero." Sam Elliot wants to just crush the mouse with his big brown laced boots. I start to cry and beg him not to. I'm hoping the mouse has found a good  hiding place. 
The mouse runs out from under the helmet shelves where I keep the IS-Max BTs and Sam slams his big boot down and crushes the mouse.
It doesn't die. I'm horrified. It's laying there, breathing slowly. I can see it's chest rising a falling with each breath. I want to kill it to put it out of it's misery but I can't do it. I can't crush it. I can vividly picture crushing it with my shoe and I'm traumatized with the though. I'm so torn. I know I need to do it.
I stomp it, hard. I killed it. I killed the poor little thing. 
I pick it's lifeless, still warm body up and throw it in the bushes behind the store.

Then I wake up.

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