The city hall where I work is infested with mice.

Julie, the city prosecutor, is the third least tidiest person in the whole world. Seconded by my teenage brother Eric, and trumped by my little sister who only has to look at a room to make it messy. One day I was searching for a file on Julie’s desk. Among the random string of chips, gum, chocolate bars and paperwork, I found the file. I also found a little mouse turd. Right next to the package of cookies.

I went to hand Terri, my boss, the file I found. “Terri,” I said, “there is a mouse poop on Julie’s desk.” Terri grabbed my wrist for support, and drug me into the office to show her exactly where this mouse had pooped.

I think it’s funny when Terri is mad. I don’t try to make her mad, but I am an intern after all.

“That is so gross! There is a damn mouse pooping all over everything! We’re all going to get a disease like rabies or something!” Terri hugged herself tightly and stomped her feet. “That’s it. All of this shit has to go. I’m telling Brett.”

Brett is the city attorney. I think Brett likes it when Terri is mad, too.

“Alisa! Show Brett where that thing left a poop on Julie’s desk!” Brett looked at me. I looked at Brett. We looked at Terri. Terri was washing her hands frantically.

“Yes. That is definitely a mouse dropping. I’ll put in a work order to have mouse traps set,” Brett concluded. Brett was playing along, because really, we work for the government. Work orders are thrown in a box in a storage room somewhere never to see the light of day until 10 years go by. Then the work orders are terminated.

Terri huffed, “It’s because Julie leaves all this damn food just sitting around! What does she think is going to happen but have a mouse come and poop all over her stuff!”  Brett and I nodded in agreement.  I tried not to smile.

A couple weeks later Terri gave me a stack of files to go through.  I had just sat down at a computer when Terri called me.

“Alisa!”

Micromanager strikes again.  “Yes?”

“Come here and look at something.”

I plodded over to Terri’s desk.

“Is this a mouse turd?”

I leaned in to look closer.  “That is most definitely a dead cotton beetle.”

I lied.