Slumlord/Rodent Hunt Update

So the rodent in question was caught with the assistance of our very nice new neighbour Jack-in-the-Beret who provided a medieval-looking trap, which lends a nice Inquisitional aesthetic edge to our new collection of various products to combat rodents (poison in pellets, glue traps and old-skool mousetraps). Not a squirrel, my friend, not a squirrel. 'Twas a rat. Not huge, but no baby mouse either. Upon realizing that it was sitting very still in the trap, I again conscripted Jack-in-the-Beret who came and took it away. Before the trap left my apartment we stuck a cheese-and-peanut-butter-and-poison sandwich in there. Yes, I felt vaguely guilty about it, but then I thought about how it apparently hopped around all over the bathroom, including shelves and medicine cabinets, and how I really did not want to have a Winston Smith experience of waking up to it biting my face. Then it started hissing, and the chill that sound sent down my spine froze the guilt right out of me. Jack-in-the-Beret examined the hallway and pointed out a hole between the floor and the wall that did not get filled in after cable was run through there. He said that it probably came up that way and that he would call Slumlord and tell him to put some expandable foam in there to seal it. I leave for school, grateful to Jack-in-the-Beret. I return from school to find the specter of Slumlord haunting the garbage cans in front of the building. I say hello and ask if he has fixed the hole. He pretends to not know what I am talking about. I patiently explain. He says "the hole has nothing to do with it. The rat tiptoed up the stairs. One of the girls nearly tripped on it several days ago." You may note that that is the same logic applied by the Slumlord to the attempted break-ins into our building ("no, there won't be any more attempted break-ins because they caught the kids that did that"--despite the fact that the guy I shooed away from working at my door with a wrench was definitely not a "kid,") the Slumlord seemed incapoble of entertaining the idea that there might be more than one potential culprit, just like now he is incapable of processing that there is more than one fucking rat around. My reasoning is lost on him as usual, I am in a hurry to get upstairs, so I just say :
"Slumlord, will you please just fix the hole in the wall"
to which he responds
"The hole is irrelevant, anthrochica; you never listen, you have to learn to listen to people."
So in the end I had to plug the hole with dishwashing sponges, the ones with one brillo side. I hate my landlord.

(no subject)

i totally stole this photo link from
eo's webpage, but i can't get over it either.