This is a post from a dead blog of mine where I tried to give accounts of my life in heroic epic style. I really enjoyed it too much to let it die with the rest of that blog. It was written after repeated readings of the Nibelungenlied. I know some of you have read it already, but for those who haven’t, I hope you enjoy me as much as I do:

How I Defeated The Mice

How the Mice committed myriad Unnatural Crimes.

On coming to Toronto, I first lived at one place, then the next. At the next, as at the first, there was a plague of Mice such that there has never been such a plague of Mice before, nor I should wager, will there be one such again.
Out of every hole came so many as four thousand Mice at a time, dressed in the finest silk tunics and upon them fine chainmail that glittered like the stars themselves. Surely it can be said that never before have there been Mice so finely decked out and so lusty for battle. It is said even their women carried Halberds that might cut through the helmet of any man and leave many weeping widows and maidens, though I cannot say I saw these Amazonian she-Mice myself.
Every night and late into the afternoon as I slept my Hero’s sleep, the Mice would come out and sortie to my Garbage, kept in my Kitchen in a grand pile due to the Treacheries of the Garbagemen. And every night there would be a great clamour and much shitting near were I kept my food, as they made it theirs. For weeks was I so plagued by these Mice and their Unnatural Crimes.

How Granrulf the Mouse was taken and laid low.

Granrulf the Mouse was said to be a fine warrior, and lo did he show it when we met in sacred battle. But how did the merry Mice maidens regret that he ever stepped foot out of the safety of their hiding places.
Granrulf appeared before me bedecked is his finest fineries, which included a felt hat which his father before him, and his father before him wore. It was said to have been worn by so many generations of warrior in his family that it did not bear counting. Knowing the great ancientness of his hat, I lusted after it greedily.
Coming at me with a ferocity like to make all generations of warriors in his familt proud, he raised his fabled sword Gram high above him and di mean to cleave into my helmet and bath me in my blood. But I slammed with all my might my coffee thermos upon his head and he was dead.
Then I stapled him to a pole outside and put a note on it warning of more to come.

How Hildebrung the Mouse too was taken and laid low.

Hildebrung the brother of Granrulf was much angered by his brother’s death, and swore vengeance. But he said “Surely I cannot buy vengeance against mighty Caligula and his Thermos, as how mighty a warrior he is. It is said his skin is made of horn and that he is the World’s Greatest Lover. I will better take on some of his men and so bereave him.” Such was Hildebrung, brother of Granrulf’s thinking.
And so Hildebrung stole away to the upper levels of the house where my men lived and laid himself dead in a hallway.
Then I stapled him to a pole outside and put a note on it warning of more to come.

How the Mice hid and were starved.

With the noble brothers Granrulf and Hildebrung so laid low, and displayed so unmercifully, Gongru King of the Mice despaired to lose any more of his valiant warriors. So he called all of his Horde to hide away in the nether-reaches of the house, that they might not fall low to the mighty Thermos, or to the apparently deadly hallway.
In this wise decision the King was not supported by his hot headed son Theodoric. To him it were a cowards death to live in hiding.
And to this point he could not have been more clear in his conversation with the King his father!
For now though, the wisdom of the King won out, though it would not be that way for long, and before long all the Mice would come to regret that they had committed such Unnatural Crimes and so sortied to the stinking Garbage pile.
With the Mouse Horde thus hidden I took to cleaning the Garbage pile, and no longer leaving my meals on the ground where they fell. And I took what food I had sitting loose and fortified it in plastic tupperware, and put it high — so high that even a Mouse such as the mighty Theodoric, who was near seven feet tall they say, could reach it.
And so the mice starved in their captivity, and ever did Theodoric’s war counsel fall upon more open ears.

How Theodoric of the Mice forrayed into open battle and was laid low.

For one week the Mice starved and fell low, until there were only those two stoutest and stalwart mice left: Theodoric and his father the King Gongru. And it was no secret that Theodoric endeavoured to do battle with mighty me. And so the king his father entreated him not to, but it was to no avail.
Theodoric clasped his armour about him so that it shone like the sun itself and he thought himself safe from any harm.
And out he marched to battle, and I thumped him on the head with my coffee thermos, but lo! He did not die immediately. With his mortal wound pressing so close upon his life, he held up his hand for peace, and he spoke to me thus, “You have bested me Mighty warrior, but please I beg of you, have mercy for my father the King. He has been noble in all his doings and surely has been bereaved more than any Mouse ever has or surely ever will be again.”
But I crushed him with my thermos and laughed at his womanliness.

On the character of Gongru, King of the Mice.

Gongru King of the Mice was a slow Mouse, but never was it said to be a weakness, rather it was said to be a strength — for he walked on two legs! And so it was known by all that he was rightfully King of all the Christian Mice.

How Gongru, King of the Mice, was crushed by a thermos and the Mice were defeated.

While I sat on the ground by Theodoric’s corpse and laughed at his ladyishness, Gongru King of the Mice came out and asked to see his son. I then, though taken aback by his manner of walking, clomped him upon the brow with my thermos.
He died right there and I put him in the Garbage with his son,

and so thus ends
the story of the Mice.