This morning I woke up rather late to my dad storming around the kitchen like one of the Knights Templar, muttering to himself "where's the peanut butter" while gesturing dramatically with a popsicle stick in hand.

I blinked and ran a hand through my sleep tangled hair, walked to the pantry and waved in the general vicinity of 3 rather large, barely used containers of peanut butter, in both smooth and chunky varieties. If there's one thing we do well, here at the Asylum, it's peanut butter.

Meanwhile, dad looks at me as though I'M insane and says "nonono, not THAT peanut butter. The OTHER peanut butter." Apparently "peanut butter" is actually code for "crack and/or acid." At this point, I shrug, shake my head and walk to the coffee pot, Advil in hand. Dad continues wandering around muttering to himself when finally, he gets this look of realization in his face and says "AHA! I left it in the laundry room!" And darts (mind you, this is my dad's version of "darting" which is more like lumbering) to the laundry room, returning triumphantly with a container of peanut butter larger then any company should be allowed to make. He continues muttering but this time it's more along the lines of "I'm gonna get that little bastard...I'm gonna get 'im..."

Apparently my dad has waged war on a mouse that's taken up residence in the basement. You'd think a simple chunk of cheese would be enough to catch this thing, but apparently this mouse is a rather intelligent creature. He's been alluding my dad for about a month now and last night was the last straw, apparently. Not only did he set off the trap, eat the food on it and scamper away, unscathed, he actually carried off the trap for god knows what purposes.

I'm scared to sleep at night. I'm afraid my dad might decide the only way to catch the mouse is to lure him with human flesh and slice off one of my fingers as bait...

And do you know what rationale my dad would use to justify such an action? Care to take a guess?

All who said "But the mouse was bothering the dog!" please stand up and exit to the left, where you will receive your prize. By prize what I really mean is a once in a lifetime opportunity to have sex with a communist dictator of your choice. But really now, who WOULDN'T want that?

I'd just like to clarify...my dog can't walk down stairs. He's NEVER IN THE BASEMENT. I'm beginning to feel like a second class citizen.