Dirty Dave, Jimmy Two Guns, and the Mouse Plague of Pine Holler
Now lemme tell ya, boy, this here’s a cautionary tale about the time Dirty Dave an’ Jimmy Two Guns near coughed their lungs plum out after spendin’ a weekend up Pine Holler Camp.
See, them two varmints figured they’d go “off-grid,” which is fancy talk fer sleepin’ in a leaky tent an’ arguin’ over who forgot the beans. They set up right ‘round a half-rotted log pile, not noticin’ all them little rice-sized mouse turds sprinkled ‘round like nature’s pepper.
Dave says, “Shoot, them’s just raisins from last trip.”
Jimmy Two Guns squints, says, “Dave, them raisins is movin’.”
Jimmy Two Guns squints, says, “Dave, them raisins is movin’.”
Now, what they didn’t know is them deer mice up that way ain’t your friendly cartoon kind. Naw, them fellers carry a mean little bug called hantavirus. You can’t see it, can’t smell it, can’t shoot it—but buddy, it’ll sure whoop ya good if ya breathe it in.
They spent the first night snug as a tick, eatin’ canned chili an’ tossin’ cornbread crumbs like confetti. But come mornin’, Dave got up coughin’ like an old tractor. Said his back felt like he got kicked by a mule. Jimmy Two Guns was sweatin’ like bacon on a skillet, achin’ from his hips clear down to his boots.
By day three, they was wheezin’ and gaspin’, sayin’ their chests felt like a bear sat on ‘em. Dave hollered, “Reckon this is what dyin’ feels like!”
Jimmy Two Guns wheezed back, “Reckon next time we camp, I’m bringin’ Lysol instead o’ moonshine.”
Jimmy Two Guns wheezed back, “Reckon next time we camp, I’m bringin’ Lysol instead o’ moonshine.”
Turns out, them two had been sweepin’ up mouse droppin’s like it was spring cleanin’ day—dust flyin’ everywhere, hantavirus ridin’ the wind like a ghost.
Moral o’ the Story (Hillbilly Survival Tips):
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Check yer camp before settin’ down yer bedroll. If ya see little mouse raisins or smell somethin’ funky, move along, partner.
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Air that cabin out like a good ol’ outhouse—let the breeze chase them germs away.
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Keep yer vittles tight-sealed. Mice love open snacks more than possums love roadkill.
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Don’t go sweepin’ droppin’s! Spray ‘em with bleach water (1 part bleach, 9 parts water), let ‘er sit, then wipe it up gentle-like.
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Wear gloves and wash yer mitts after. Ain’t no shame in playin’ safe.
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And if you start feelin’ flu-like after campin’ ‘round rodent country—get to a doctor quick. Ain’t no home remedy for hantavirus ‘cept good hospital care and a prayer or two.
Dirty Dave and Jimmy Two Guns made it through, but they tell folks now:“Ain’t no s’more worth breathin’ mouse poop dust for.”So next time you head out campin’, remember their tale. Keep yer camp clean, yer tent zipped, and yer chili lid tight.
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