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The Mouse and the V-Neck
I want to make that clear from the beginning. I'm not scared of them, I just don't like them. And after one particularly memorable class in my third year, I learned to like them even less.
While I love my gorgeous old university, I must admit, the buildings are not exactly the most secure in the world. For a poor little mouse seeking refuge from a typically brisk October day, a classroom must seem like a welcome refuge.
However, given the screeches that erupted as the little guy scurried across the floor of our class that day, he was NOT a welcome guest.
With a few minutes before the "official" beginning of class, the professor, myself, and a few others decided we would escort our visitor back outside (it would have been difficult to conduct class anyway, since a number of my classmates were now sitting ON their desks).
The teams: Four men and one woman (me) versus one mouse. He must have been laughing at the odds.
After chasing this thing around the classroom, we finally managed to corner him behind a shelf of sorts. Being the only female willing to help in this rescue mission, I was also the smallest, and therefore the most logical to try to fish mousey out of his hidey-hole.
Since I was not expecting to be chasing rodents out of small spaces, I had worn a v-neck sweater to class that day. As I reached towards the mouse (wearing a pair of suede gloves lent to me by one of the others, lest I get bitten), he saw only one clear escape route.
Down my shirt.
He apparently did not account for my bra, which provided something of a barrier.
I leapt to my feet and the others began asking "Did you get him? Where is he? Do you have him?"
"He's in my shirt," I screeched somewhat hysterically.
At this point, there were several more (notably MALE) volunteers offering to help me get him out.
I managed to get mousey out of my shirt without getting bitten or providing my classmates with too much more of a show, and two of my fellow rescuers escorted him outside. At that point, I could have cared less if he froze to death.
It took a full ten minutes for the professor to recover from laughing to start class. Even then, every time he looked at me, he started laughing again.
I don't like rodents.
Maybe you should have tried to reason with the little bugger.