"Arrgh, a mouse!!!" screams his father.
Can I be honest here? I am afraid of very little in life, except space travel and bad garage conversions. Small rodents also freak me out; the smaller the freakier.
So, in short, I let out a sort of girlie yelp (think Hannah Montana or, worse, Don Knotts) when I saw the mouse dart across the room and under the sleeper sofa. I got out a fireplace tool and poked futilely at the couch as the little guy and his mother ran out of the bungalow screaming for a SWAT team.
A ranger came — a woman, fortunately — and she tipped the couch, which caused the mouse to scamper across the floor and up the fireplace, at which point I yelped a second time.
Don't worry, you PETA people, the mouse is fine. But I may never recover, at least in Amelia Earhart's eyes. Once you hear a man yelp, I don't think you ever quite get the magic back.
Just think about it: 25 years, and the only person to come between us is a 1-ounce field mouse. He looked a little bit like George Clooney, if I remember, but only in the rump. Or was that his nose?
Anyway, I'll probably be auditioning new wives soon.
Question No. 1: Can you read a road map?
Question No. 2: Do you find yelpy men kind of hot?
Other than that, I'm game for anything.
Chris Erskine can be reached at email@example.com. For more columns, see latimes.com/erskine.
MAN OF THE HOUSE
It's no shock when vacations head south
We've upgraded our reader commenting system. Learn more about the new features.
Los Angeles Times welcomes civil dialogue about our stories; you must register with the site to participate. We filter comments for language and adherence to our Terms of Service, but not for factual accuracy. By commenting, you agree to these legal terms. Please flag inappropriate comments.
Having technical problems? Check here for guidance.