Mouse-Kicker Guy

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June 7, 2013 by T. Gregory Argall

I saw Mouse-Kicker Guy the other day. He was out, kicking away at mice, which is why we call him Mouse-Kicker Guy. Makes sense, doesn’t it? If your gonna give a guy a nick-name, make sure it suits him.

“Who’s that?”
“Oh, that’s Hamburger-Ketchup Guy.”
“What does he do?”
“He puts mustard on hot dogs.”

See? Make no sense. It just sounds stupid, doesn’t it?

Oh, sure there’s the ironic variety of nick-names. Like calling a bald guy “Curly,” or calling a seven foot tall weight lifter “Tiny.” Of course, if you’re going to call a seven foot tall weight lifter “Tiny” you’d better ask his permission first. Make sure he’s alright with the idea. You don’t want him mad you. Look at him. One thought goes through your mind. “I’ve got arms like that, but they’re attached to my ass and I call them legs.” You don’t want to call him anything he doesn’t want to be called.

So, anyway, yeah, we could have gone with the ironic nick-name and called him “Mouse-Lover Guy” and the irony would be, of course, that he really doesn’t love mice, but some people might not know that and they’d think he was some kind of pervert. “Mouse-Lover Guy” sounds like the kind of guy you want to keep your children away from, doesn’t it?

Now, “Mouse-Kicker Guy” just sounds fun. And he is. Kicking away at mice. All day long. He’s never actually hit one. That’s the great part. He’ll just kick wildly, miss the mice and kick again. Sometimes he kicks so hard that he actually knocks himself over. It’s like a slapstick movie, when he’s around. That’s why I say he’s good fun for kids. They’ll laugh their butts off for hours watching him trying to kick the mice.

Sometimes, there aren’t even any mice around. Actually, most times there aren’t any mice around. But Mouse-Kicker Guy, he’ll just be sitting there in a chair or standing there staring at a tree or something, then suddenly he’ll yell, “MOUSE!” and start kicking at the air.

Oh, he’s lots of fun.

Once, we were standing outside the pizza place and Mouse-Kicker Guy was telling a bunch of us about the Panzarotti Conspiracy when he suddenly screamed (say it with me, now), “MOUSE!” We all jumped back, because we know better than to be within range of one of his feet when he starts yelling. (Boot-To-The-Mouth Guy got himself a whole new nick-name by standing too close. He still eats through a straw and it’s been more than three years, now.) So, Mouse-Kicker Guy is leaping about, feet flying through the air, flailing away and then, BOOM, ker-SMASH! He hits the window of the pizza place and it just shatters. Pizza Guy called the cops and they showed. Mouse-Kicker Guy kept telling them that he didn’t break the window, the mouse did. The cops didn’t look like they believed him until the rest of us backed up his story, told them we saw it, too.

Hey, that’s what friends are for.

Even if you’re a big loony like Mouse-Kicker Guy.

So, anyway, like I was saying, I saw Mouse-Kicker Guy the other day. We passed each other on the street. I said, “How’s it going, Mouse-Kicker Guy?”

He said, “Going good, Playwright-Bloggy-Funny-Jokes Guy.” (He gave me that nick-name himself. No one helped him.)

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Looking for mice to kick,” he answered as his keen eye surveyed the street. “There’s one!” he bellowed and he went bounding down the sidewalk after it.

As I watched him get his foot stuck in a trash can, I couldn’t help thinking, the world needs more people like Mouse-Kicker Guy.

Not too many, though. Maybe just one or two more.



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