Mouse makes for wild drive

There were signs, but only a stray chewed bit of paper on the floor of the van.
Probably just a stray critter passing through, thought Giggles, as she climbed hurriedly into the van headed for a gab fest in Fat Frantic.
A couple miles east of Hooterville, Giggles roared past a loaded pulp truck. She concentrated on the road with a sharp eye peeled for Ticket Tom as she glanced at her watch.
“Late again,” she thought, as she applied a little more throttle.
Something tickled her foot. “Darn mosquitoes. They’ve finally started hatching out. Have to remember to close the van windows tonight,” she surmised as she kicked at the tickle on her right foot while keeping a steady pressure on the accelerator.
Giggles caught a flicker of movement on the floor, but quickly brought her attention back to the road and set the cruise so she could take care of that tickling mosquitoes on her right foot.
She glanced in the mirror at the pulp truck that finally had gotten up to speed and was creeping up on her tail. “Darn truckers,” she muttered, as she bumped the cruise up another couple of notches.
Giggles doesn’t tolerate people cutting in line in front of her and being passed she finds just about as annoying.
But the truck kept gaining and pulled out to pass. As he inched by, Giggles felt something start climbing her leg and glanced down to see a big, old country mouse on its way to the city about halfway to her knee.
“Gaaaah!” she shrieked, jamming her foot to the floor boards in an attempt to dislodge the mouse. The van, with the throttle fully open now, leapt ahead of the pulp truck and with a couple of sashays put the fear of gawd into the truck driver.
He backed off a couple of notches, muttering to himself about vicious women drivers and fired up a smoke to steady his nerves.
Giggles, meanwhile, with her foot still slammed right to the floor, was slapping wildly at the mouse and finally managed to connect, sending poor Mickey sailing across the van, where he ricocheted off the door.
Realizing she was hitting more than 160 km/h, Giggles slammed on the brakes and managed a more or less controlled skid onto the shoulder. By the time the pulp truck crawled by at a now cautious 10 m.p.h., giving Giggles the entire right lane as well as a wary glance, all the doors of the van were open.
Giggles, a tire wrench in one hand and poking under the seats with a yardstick, was circling the van like a member of the SWAT team on high alert. No one stopped to offer assistance (too many innocent bystanders have been injured that way).
No word on what happened to the mouse. Did it escape or die of shock? But from the reaction at the Hooterville coffee shop, it was obvious the truck driver had been in spreading the word.
Every head turned in unison when Giggles made her entrance the next day.
And Ticket Tom again has been manning his speed trap looking for that “Grey Phantom” van.

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