Gus, Gus, Gus
At work the other day, I was in mid-conversation with Madge and noticed a shadow in the fluorescent light over my right shoulder. At first glance, I thought it was a moth that got trapped and was fluttering around. At second glance and the bewilderment of my co-workers, we saw it in all of its glory. What you ask? It was a mouse doing the spread eagle high above my head. It was trying to scurry back up to its homemade nest, but couldn’t because it was slipping on its own poop droppings.
We all did the “girl” scream and then watched it jump back up what only I can imagine is a massive entrance to a mice infested ceiling. So, we have logged this incident with the other eventful happenings that prove yet again that we should move our office to another 
part of town. For those keeping count, there was bum poo-dried underwear, a knife with what looked like dried blood, a hold-up at the Dollar General at gunpoint, a frequent parking lot prostitute, multiple drug deals going on down the street, a non-existent landlord who thought we were griping when we didn’t have air conditioning during the heat wave for a month, the vortex of smells that we have become accustomed to every other month, and now our new office mascot. The saga continues…
