There's a mouse in the garage that hisses and chitters at me when I go in there. It almost sounds like a language. An angry language filled with expletives.
Perhaps I'll record it and use my linguistics training to try to make some sense of it.
It also tried to throw things at me.
At first it reminded me of Naina Yeltsin, after Boris had come dragging himself home after yet another bender. Yet I know it can't be her.
UPDATE
Could it be the sound the wife of a Mexican migrant makes when her husband fails to remember it was the family-sized pack of turkey necks she had wanted from Winn-Dixie, and not the regular-sized? It's unclear, yet the pattern's so very familiar.
UPDATE II
No, Tony, it wasn't the sound of a drunken Jim Morrison calling me a pig and pulling down his leather pants to expose himself to whomever might be looking. The sounds had too much energy for that.
I've never heard a mouse hiss. Are we sure it's a mouse??
Posted by: pam at December 5, 2005 06:01 PMIt is a mouse. Last week Mr. Schweitzer cleaned in there and drove a bucket of mouse babies out to their new home in a field.
Posted by: Donnah at December 5, 2005 06:09 PMWhat's the problem? Just leave the engine running when you get home. That always works in the movies.
I could suggest it was Elvis, but that joke's way dead. Like Elvis. Chances are it's Jim Morrison trying to sneak back to Miami.
Posted by: Tony.T at December 5, 2005 06:53 PM