The Adventures of Rob and Clay: The Case of the Heavily Flawed Mousetrap

12:30 a.m. the other night, I go into my kitchen to brush my teeth and what do I see: a mouse scurrying from one floor cabinet to the next. Recently, Robert and I saw it dart from under my bed into my "closet area" but couldn't find it--or kill it. Naturally, I was irritated and said outloud, "this ends tonight!"
I called for Robert...

I came immediately, closing the door to the bedroom behind me and barricaded the entryway to the kitchen with a marker board. I perched myself atop a stool to assess the situation as...

I began to remove almost everything from the cabinet in which the mouse was hiding, saying curses the whole time. After removing everything I proded the gas bottle in the cabinet, connected to my stove. The mouse shot from the cabinet to another gas bottle beside my sink. In the bottom of the gas tank are small holes that I decided to tape up to trap the mouse inside/underneath but I needed tape so...

I retrieved a roll of packing tape from my suitcase (why would I have packing tape in my suitcase? that is irrelevant to this story). Remembering the sticky mouse traps from home - in which the creature was cruelly stuck until it perished - I put a strip of tape along the outside of the doorway to the bedroom, and to the kitchen. Then...

I taped the holes in the bottom of the gas bottle. Of course, by this time, Robert and I forgot that we needed to watch the gas bottle the whole time so I wasn't sure the mouse was still there so Robert brought me a flashlight and upon inspection I saw two beady eyes.

Now we had it trapped but we didn't know how to kill it or get it outside or anything: we were stuck; trapped if you will, by our own machinations.

I was willing to free the mouse so I wanted to get it into a trash can. To do this I decided to turn the trash can on it's side and tape folders to it and the gas bottle, creating a little tunnel that would guide the mouse. Meanwhile...

I once again turned to my favorite intervention, the packing tape. I taped the folders to the trash can--and all over the floor in the kitchen--so they would not fall. However, after lengthy discussion - including much doubt - about how this would unfold, we changed plans completely.

Outloud, I pointed out that if we had a trash bag we could justslip the gas tank into it to guarantee that the mouse wouldn't get away. Robert said "I have a trash bag." (why would Robert have a trash bag? that is not relevant to this story.)
We slid the bag under and over the gas tank. "On the count of 3", I said, "you will lift the gas tank and I'll close the bag."
FAIL.
The gas tank was too heavy to lift quickly and there was a huge hole in the bag from sliding it under the gas tank. The mouse ran away. The tape at the doorways didn't phase it.

You might be forlorn, Reader, with how this tale ends. I'm sure from the start you assumed our complex enterprise would eventually prove to be a success. However, the moral of this story lies not in the outcome, but...

In my willingness to set the mouse free. The true moral of the story is: when a mouse is in your house and you catch it, you must kill it. I should've just lifted the gas bottle and crushed the mouse with it.