Current mood:	predatory
Current music:	The staccato drums of failure...

So, I was sitting in my room reading Battlefield Earth to try and quell my insomnia (big long books usually equal big long sleep) when I hear my roommate Dag the Rat (he looks like that one Angry Beaver, y'know?) making noise by my closet. I grab my maglight and shine it at the area I heard the sound, and see him dart inside, where my precious black coat presides. I panic.

No way in hell I'm letting this little furred bastard go NEAR my coat.

So, I grab my hammer and roll off the bed, lunging at the closet door and yelling "not this time, pest!" Once I've crawled successfully inside the closet, I shut the door and sit with my back to it.

There was no escape.

I saw it dart back and forth looking for an exit in a panic, and almost felt sorry for the poor rodent, but instead remembered it's earlier attempts on my life and assumed a deadly stance I once learned while in China learning the ancient art of the ninja...

...when my maglight went dead, leaving me in utter darkness.

Now, it was my turn to panic. The dark, cobwebby depths of my closet were no place for an arachophobic, and stupid Dag scurrying his nasty little feet over my legs every few seconds wasn't adding to the situation.

Hanging my head, I opened the door, crawled out of the closet, and admitted defeat.

Dag: 3; Brandon: 0.

Know this, however: I will get Dag. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow...

...but I will get Dag.