just call me..."the exterminator"

I had a rare opportunity to fight off the forces of evil last week. My friend stealthily informed me he'd found a mouse in the Church kitchen, and had cornered it in the broom closet. My sense of trespass aggravated, I grabbed broom and swaggered towards the door. He grabbed dustpan, and we flushed it. My first swipes missed, and the rat ran under the stove. He could have stayed there forever, but he unwisely chose to run out. This time I made contact, but barely, and he escaped out into the dining room. Like a good rat, he kept to the outer perimeter of the room, so I stationed myself by the door like a hockey goalie and waited for him to come back around while Luke chased him around the room. Third time was the charm, and the force was with me as I handily pinned him to the ground mere inches from escaping through the double doors. Luke then held him down with the dust pan as I finished him humanely with the skull-crusher. Rar.