The Tale of The Three Mice and The Trap House

Three mice find themselves eating the worst tasting rock candy they had even seen and mysterious happenings ensue.

Allow me to tell you a story.
I’ve been assured it is a true and accurate retelling of events but I’ll let you be the judge of that. All I can do is share the facts as they were given to me. And before you point it out, yes, I do seem to associate with a few questionable individuals who may have a tendency to… embellish things a bit.

That said, here’s what I was told.

Not long ago, there was a small house just outside the city limits, tucked back off the road and safely out of sight from prying eyes. The gentleman who lived there, let’s call him Bob, was well known in certain circles. Known as… well, an unlicensed pharmacist.

His specialty was something some folks call speed, others call go, but most everyone knows as methamphetamine.

Bob had been selling it for years without much in the way of unusual happenings, at least, nothing unusual for a trap house. The usual tweakers drifted in and out, trying to trade a weed eater or some random item for a little motivation. All pretty standard.
Here’s where things veer off into the unexpected.

Late one August afternoon, Bob needed to make a few deliveries. He locked the little house, loaded up his truck, and headed out. That evening, three mice, hot, exhausted, and terribly hungry, wandered upon the place. Their names were Juan, Jeff, and Jerry. They were trying to get home after a long week running on the exercise wheel at the mall.

Figuring they could slip in, grab a quick bite, and be on their way, they entered through a small hole in the wall and navigated a maze of wiring and studs until they found themselves inside a kitchen drawer. There, they discovered a large bag of something that looked like rock candy.

Starving, the trio tore open the plastic and each took a big chunk.
“This candy tastes terrible,” Juan said.
“No kidding,” Jeff muttered.
“At least I’m not hungry anymore,” Jerry added.
A moment later, Juan said, “You know… I’m feeling kinda funny.”
“Me too,” the others agreed.
Within minutes they felt better. Better than they ever had in their lives. Soon Juan was rummaging through drawers and cabinets just to see what secrets they held. Jeff seized a tactical position behind a can by the window, convinced government agents or worse, cats were coming for them. Jerry became fixated on the idea of stripping copper from the walls, though he had no idea why.

They spent the entire night gnawing on the worst “rock candy” they’d ever tasted, working furiously yet accomplishing absolutely nothing. Before heading home, they gathered as much of the “candy” as they could. Jerry constructed an impressive pile of stripped copper wiring and hid it for later, though he couldn’t explain the compulsion. Jeff declared himself point man for the journey, certain someone in the government was out to get them.

Early the next morning, Bob returned home and went straight to bed. After only a couple hours of sleep, he got up, walked into the kitchen, flipped the light switch and nothing happened.
“That’s odd,” he thought. “Bulb must be blown.”
He tried the coffee pot. Nothing.
“Weird,” he muttered.
He went searching for a flashlight but found none. The mice had taken every single one and hidden them with the copper.
“What is going on here?” he growled. “I’d swear my house was full of tweakers all night if I didn’t know better.”

Then he remembered the pound of meth he’d hidden in the kitchen drawer.
He flung it open and just as he feared… it was gone.
“I’ll find the sorry tweaker that broke in here, and he’ll pay for this!” Bob shouted.
He rounded up everyone he knew and intimidated them into trembling confessions . Except, no one had anything to confess. Each person denied any knowledge of the missing goods and begged him to calm down.
This went on for days.

Bob was baffled. How had someone stripped wiring from inside the walls without leaving a trace? None of it made sense.

For months afterward, strange events continued happening every couple of weeks, coincidentally, the same intervals when the mice passed through. Bob drove himself to the brink of a breakdown trying to solve the mystery. Eventually, he surrendered to the only explanation he could live with: the house must be haunted.

He moved out shortly after. Paranoia had taken root, and Bob would never be the same.
As for the mice, they weren’t the same either. Once they realized what they had stumbled upon and how lucrative their new “rock candy” was at the mall, they set to work. By the time Bob moved out, the trio had amassed a small fortune and no longer needed their mall jobs.
They could retire comfortably… well, sort of.
Juan developed a love for estate sales and rummaging through forgotten treasures. Jeff opened a store selling security devices, still convinced someone was out to get them. And Jerry opened an online copper-recycling business, happy to let people bring their copper straight to him even if he still couldn’t quite explain his obsession with it.

And that, they say, is exactly what happened.
They swear it’s true.

I have my doubts. But I’ll let you decide for yourself.

THE END