On Thursday, I went out to photograph a baseball game not far from home. It was an OK game, nothing spectacular. I did get a handful of decent photos (click the Flickr photos link above if you're interested, but that's not the point of this post). While I was happily shooting away, I heard a spectator next to me gasp.

"A MOUSE!" she shrieked.

Slightly startled, I took my eyes from the game to see what the fuss was about. I saw something dart into a small hole leading under the dugout. A moment later, an all too familiar face peered out at me.

peeringvole.jpg
100% Photoshop Free

"You son of a..." I started. He ducked away in his hole. Before doing so, I'm pretty sure he also gave me the finger. It's hard to tell though, because he's got pretty small fingers. I'm working under the assumption that he did.

"Excuse me?!" the lady replied.

"No, I'm sorry. Not you. That there, that was no mouse. It was a vole."

"That wasn't a mole," she replied. "That was a mouse!"

"No, I said VOLE, with a V. Mice have bigger eyes and longer torsos and..." sensing the glaze forming over her eyes, I stopped. I tried to go back to focusing on the game, but I couldn't. Two innings later, I decided that I had lost enough of my focus. I packed up my stuff and left. I got to my car and found a hastily written note tucked under my windshield.

Omar:
Did I find a new home with way better grass than your place, or am I just following you wherever you go? Wouldn't you like to know? HahahahahahHAHAHAHAHA.

Watch your back.

Sincerely,
your worst nightmare

P.S. omarphillips.net jumped the shark back in February. You're nothing without me.