The Mole

The Mole
By Christopher L. Vaughn


         It all began in April on a lazy Sunday morning. I had woken up early as usual and stepped into my slippers, donned my wool robe, and headed to the end of my driveway to retrieve the Sunday paper. That’s when I saw it! That dammed mound of dirt; a lone island of destruction among a sea of lush green, well cropped, and well nurtured grass. I was furious. I had the best lawn in the neighborhood—envied by many. I have a ritual for my lawn and I stick to it religiously. First, I water the grass every morning. Second, I give it fertilizer and comb it for any signs of weeds or bugs. It gets mowed every Sunday evening and my lawn’s edges are trimmed by hand; well defined because of it.
         But now my lawn had been invaded by a heartless vandal, a demon of a critter who could care less about my ritual of lawn care. Sneaking onto my property in the dead of night to wreak havoc with my prized possession. My whole ritual was now askew, I had an ugly dirt mound to contend with; and worst yet, a dammed mole to get rid of. “I’ll show you!” I said to myself as I stormed into my house. My wife had seen the mound from the kitchen window and didn’t argue with me when I said that I was going to the store after breakfast. She knows how protective I am over my lawn and keeping me home would have been impossible. My mind was a buzz with ways to get rid of the mole; poisons, traps, whatever it took—I’d get it.
         The trip to the hardware store netted a steal trap and some bait. I went to work as soon as I got home; removed the dirt mound and exposed the hole created by the pest I loathed. I set the trap and replaced the dirt. All that was left was to wait, wait until the invader was no more. I sat on the porch with my wife and stared at the spot of dirt, sipping ice-tea periodically. I couldn’t help but think that the mole was already caught, and it took everything in me to leave the trap alone. My wife, Ethel, just watched me with a smirk and said, “Oh’ George, you’re going to think yourself into a headache staring at that thing. Come inside and watch T.V.”
         It was late in the night by the time I fell asleep, I was anxious to dig up the trap and see my adversary. I felt like a great warring general waiting to see if a plan of attack had worked. A simple rodent was no match for me. I earned a college degree at a young age and had retired after a career as an engineer. I could easily out smart a small rodent and this mole problem would be over by morning. At least that was what I though as I fell asleep.
         I nearly had to pinch my self to see if I was dreaming; stuck in a nightmare. I stood there in my robe just staring in horror. One, two, three, four! Four blasted dirt mounds! And the bait had been pushed to the surface and was conveniently set next to the hole as if the dammed mole was mocking me! I cursed at the situation, and Ethel scolded me for doing so in earshot of the neighbors. “The neighbor, that’s it, Mike would have an idea”. I said to myself. Mike always had good ideas. And he did, he suggested placing bubble gum in each hole. The mole would be attracted to the sweetness of the gum and eat it, then not being able to digest the gum it would starve to death. I ran to the store and bought four different flavors of gum, cherry, mint, cinnamon, and original. Once at home, I removed the dirt mounds as I had done the day before and placed a piece of gum in each, then covered them. 
         Tuesday morning I was sure to have killed the little devil, but again I stood there in my robe and slippers awestruck. Four more mounds pocked my lawn, and as if that was not bad enough, all four pieces of gum sat on the grass next to the mounds. This was a crisis, I now had eight ugly dirt mounds scattered about my lawn. “That’s it! I’ve had it!” I screamed in frustration as I marched to my watering hose, “I’ll flush the bastard out!”
“George, don’t do anything stupid, just call an exterminator.” Ethel pleaded to me as I unscrewed the head from the hose and shoved the hose into one of the holes. I should have listened to my wife, but I was determined. No dammed rodent was going to mock me, no sir. I turned on the hose at full blast and smiled as I watched the hose stiffen from the surge of water. It hissed and spat as water pored into the hole. I laughed in triumph; this would get him, I just new it. Ethel gave up and went back into the house shaking her head, speaking to herself in the process, “boys will be boys”.
         With each of the holes being thoroughly doused I turned off the water and assessed the damage. The lawn around the mole mounds was soaked and muddy; it would take at least a month to repair the damages, but the mole was dead and it was worth it. Ethel made me a cup of coffee and then returned to her game shows. I sat on the porch and sipped my coffee as if it was a reward for a victorious battle. I had won, the mole was gone and my lawn could be fixed, life was once again perfect.
         Then Wednesday morning brought even further frustrations. Lets just say that the term “Hump-day” has a new meaning for me; five more “humps” marked my lawn! Thirteen dirty mounds now left a hideous mountain range across my lawn. Drastic times take drastic measures; I was bringing out the big guns! “I’ll blast that bastard devil mole out of the ground!” I yelled to no one in particular and stomped the ground in defiance. I ran to my garage and pulled out the ladder, climbed to the top rack of my storage shelving. “Aaha! There they are,” I said as I pulled down last years leftover fireworks. A few minutes later I had rigged longer fuses on the M80’s and collected the ‘Artillery Shells’, you know, the type you set in a tube and it shoots up into the air and explodes in an array of colors. I lined up my arsenal and stood over them with my hands resting on my hips.
         I buried the first M80 and left only the fuse hanging out of the mound, I then lit my lighter and ignited the fuse, stepped back, and waited. A low thump shook the ground as the shock wave raced across the ground. I whooped and hollered like a mad man, I lit every M80 and felt like a kid again; this would surely kill that dammed mole! Now for the grand finally, the ‘Artillery Shells’, I had four to use and I carefully placed them in mounds then buried them. I had just twisted the fuses together so that one flame could ignited them all when Ethel stepped out side, I had forgotten that I told her I was stepping out to get the paper, that was over a half hour ago. “George, what on god’s green earth are you doing?”
           “I’m take’n care of this dammed pest Ethel. What do you think I’m doing?” I lit the fuse and stood up. I walked to Ethel with a victorious grin on my face, “now I’ve got him.” Then the smoke of the fuses went under the mounds and a second later my lawn shook violently and a loud explosion ripped through the neighborhood followed by a storm of dirt raining on Ethel and me. I slowly turned and faced the destruction in disbelief; four large craters pocked my lawn and water began to leak out of a ruptured water line. “Dam it George! Grow up and call the exterminator!” Ethel fumed and then stormed into the house.
         But I didn’t call the exterminator, this was personal and I wanted the kill. I turned off the water line and grabbed my shovel. I dug and dug until noon and never saw that dammed mole. By dinner my lawn looked like a construction site, huge holes were all over the place and long trenches stretched across the yard. I was covered in mud, grass, and sweat. Ethel was so mad at me that she locked me out of the house; I just sat on the porch and stared at my yard. My neighbors walked past in disbelief and whispered to themselves. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw it!
         It scurried across the lawn from one hole to another. I jumped to my feet and charged the mound with my shovel in hand. I swung as hard as I could at the mound and the metal tip of shovel sparked on a rock in the process. I missed! The dammed thing went underground, but now I knew where he was. I dug the tip of the shovel deep into the ground and wildly threw dirt over my shoulder. Ethel just stood by the window with her arms crossed and shook her head at me, but I was determined, he was mine! I dug deeper and deeper but still no mole. My hands blistered and I cursed and laughed in frustration, I hate moles! He was going to pay for damaging my lawn, “you just wait!”
         It was getting dark and Ethel finally let me back into the house. She heated some leftover meatloaf and poured a glass of ice-tea. I was so frustrated and tired that I could barely eat. Ethel didn’t try and get me to call the exterminator; she knew it was useless to do so. Besides, the damage had been done. My beautiful lawn was a war zone; I might as well turn it into a parking lot. “That’s it, a parking lot!” I exclaimed with excitement. Ethel turned to me with a frown, “George, you’re not going to turn our front yard into a parking lot, I won’t stand for it.”
         But I was the man of the house and if I wanted to pave over the front lawn, dam it I would! In the morning I went to the hardware store and purchased cement and a mixer. I brought it home and started mixing; my neighbors stared at me with confused looks on their faces. Ethel warned me not to pour the cement, “you pour that cement George and you’ll be sleeping on the porch until next winter!”          
         Then out of the corner of my eye again; I saw him, poking his head out of the ground. He was out of reach and all I could do was watch him in anger. The mole exited his hole and started for another when out of no where. The neighborhood cat pounced from the bushes and landed on the mole. I just stood there with my mouth wide open. That was my kill! I wanted to kill the dammed mole, I deserved it! But it was too late, the cat took the mole and ran off and disappeared. I threw the bag of cement I was holding to the ground, smashing my foot in the process, “dam it all to hell!” Then for the first time I came to my senses and laughed as I looked around. How could one small rodent drive me so mad?
         “Come on inside George, I’ll make you some tea.” Ethel smiled at me and turned to the house. I followed with an easy sense coming over me. Then I stepped on the second porch step and my foot fell through. I looked down and couldn’t believe my eyes. Termites! “George, don’t you start! Call the exterminator.” She ordered. I took a deep breath and then answered, “Yes dear.”