I MADE IT UP: A mouse in my refrigerator

By Carl D. Clarke, Jr.

Every week, I go to the Dunk ‘N Deli and buy six plain cake donuts.  I bring them home, package them individually in plastic baggies, and have one each morning with my coffee.  This is my morning ritual.
Lately, some animal has gotten into my refrigerator at night and nibbled on one of my donuts.  He did not eat the whole donut, mind you, just nibbled away about a quarter of one of them.
I believed it was a mouse, and one smart mouse at that.  First, how did it get into the refrigerator?  Second, how did the mouse figure out how to open the slotted seal on the plastic baggie to eat the donut? 
However he did it, I had to cut away the eaten part and hope I did not get some rare mouse-borne disease. 
Every night, my wife Sweetness sleepwalks down to the kitchen for a snack, typically milk and cereal, sometimes milk and cookies.  “We have a mouse in the refrigerator,” I told her.  “If you can catch him, throw him out in the yard.”
“Right,” said Sweetness.
n the meantime, I took preventive measures.  I packaged the donuts in metal tins. To no affect.  One donut was still nibbled every morning.  I placed a sign next to the donuts that said, “Videotaping in progress.” Either the mouse could not read or did not care.
There was nothing for it.  One night, I put a mousetrap in the refrigerator next to the donuts.  I figured that the mouse would have to crawl over the trap to eat my donut.  While I do not enjoy killing animals, I also treasure my morning donut.
Next morning, I discovered that the mousetrap had been sprung and that my donut was undisturbed. 
There is in every man the exhilaration that comes when a plan comes together, when the enemy has been driven from the door, when an animal has been outsmarted by the mind on Man.  I basked in that moment. 
“I frightened off the mouse,” I proudly told Sweetness. 
“Bully for you,” she said, clearly unimpressed.
“Aren’t you pleased that we no longer have mice in the refrigerator?”
“Couldn’t be more happy,” she said with even less interest. 
I noticed that she was sipping her coffee with her left hand.  When she could hide her right hand no longer, I noticed the Band-aids on her fingers. “What happened,” I asked.
“Some idiot put a mousetrap in the refrigerator,” she said.  It was chilly in the house for the rest of the day. 

Carl D. Clarke, Jr. from Abingdon is a weekly columnist for the Washington County News.  He may be reached at