Yesterday while walking through my yard, I fell into a mole hole.  It was like that dream you have where you’re falling, and falling, and falling, and then you wake up, except I only fell for a second and I didn’t wake up, it was real life; although I didn’t exactly know what a mole hole looked like, so I wasn’t really sure whose hole it was.  Pulling out my inner Sherlock Holmes, I did a little digging (figuratively, I didn’t want to meet the owner of the hole) and discovered that it was very likely possible to belong to a mole.  A silly, blind little mole had dug a hole that looked just like a bowl (I’m Dr. Seuss!).

Well now that I had stumbled on such a catastrophe, I couldn’t look away from it, especially since it was conveniently locating behind my wife’s tulips that she had taken the time to neatly plant, and were now being killed off due to this stupid mole hole!  She would never forgive me for letting those plants die without a fight so, hesitantly, I’ll take my stand against this blatantly brave pest.

Not by myself of course, a good knight always has his trusty steed, and mine is a nice handy dandy mole trap.  Big, shiny, and everything else a man could want.  This mole has fought well, but you know what they say. “This town ain’t big enough for the both of us,” and so he has to go.  Farewell, Adios, Aloha, Au Revoir, Sayōnara; this has been fun but I’m done.  It’s not me, it’s you; I hope you had fun in the mole hole while it lasted.