Lloydie’s Blog

There was an article in the Metro today about some scientists who have managed to breed mice that have no fear. Somehow these crazy science types have isolated the part of the mouse that senses fear, and then gone and removed it (presumably just for fun). Apparently the fearless mice then proceed to wander up to nearby cats and (possibly) taunt them, in Speedy Gonzalez kind of way. Sadly, these lab mice are *not* blessed with Se�or Gonzalez’s super speed, and are presumably promptly eaten by said feline.

Anyway, this kinda got me wondering. What if Brian came from such a lab? I mean, I’m not saying he’s fearless or anything. He hid behind the sofa for the entirety of this weeks Heroes episode (to be fair, that Sylar bloke is one scary son-of-a-bitch). What I’m saying is, what if he’d been part of some evil (or, for arguments sake, non-evil) science lab experiment?

To satisfy my curiosity (and make sure I’m not living with some evil super-mouse), I’m going to start testing Brian’s abilities, just in-case he’s got some amazing power I have yet to discover (other than being able to disappear for weeks on end). Also, for the benefit of the scientific community/eminent historians/bored people who read my blog, I shall be recording my findings here. That is, of course, unless Brian’s super ability is some sort of mind control thing. If it is, we’re all screwed.

Brian reappeared at the weekend. For those of you who haven’t been paying attention, Brian is the mouse I occasionally share my apartment with. I say “occasionally” because he hasn’t been around for a while. He tends to come and go as he pleases, which kind of baffles me somewhat as he doesn’t have a key.

Anyway, I shouted at him last time and he just took off. That was over a month ago.

Now Brian was back I decided I was going to treat him differently this time. I felt really guilty after shouting at him and realised that it was my own fault that he abandoned me. Now he’s returned, I thought, I’m going to treat him with a lot more respect and patience.

For example: On Sunday night we were sat watching the TV at around, say, 10 o’clock in the evening. While sat there I decided that I needed the toilet. I move to get up and, seeing me starting to head to the bathroom, Brian rushes across the room and darts straight in there before I could. “Bastard”, I thought.

Then I remembered I was going to be more patient with him. No, I decided, I’m not going to bang on the door and swear at him until he comes out, even if he is in there for bloody ages again.

After about an hour I started to think that maybe he was just doing it to annoy me. After all, he KNEW I needed the loo. I gave it another ten minutes and, deciding that no-one should monopolise the bathroom for that amount of time, I let myself in.

Here’s the weird bit. He’d vanished. Now there’s no exit to the bathroom except the door I’d just barged through. There’s not even a window or skylight or one of those cartoon mouse holes in the skirting. There’s nothing. Short of donning some mouse-sized scuba equipment and riding down the brown-flume , I have no idea how he managed to get out.

I’m beginning to think Brian has some sort of escapology super power.