Mice on toast

The other day someone at work asked me if I knew what a mousetrap was.

Why sure, I said, it's what you catch dem pesky mice in.

It turned out he was speaking in an edible context.

A mousetrap, to a Kiwi, is vegemite and grilled cheese on toast.

The idea being that the mouse is lured onto the hot savoury slice by the prospect of scoffing the cheese. But then the vegemite takes a hold on its tiny paws like a sea of superglue.

The mouse either perishes on the spot or is hit over the head with a hammer once the kettle's boiled.

Just as I was assembling that theory, my informant popped one under the grill - a mousetrap, not a mouse. Indeed, there were no mice to hand - that we knew of at least - but I was grateful for the illustration.

While I devoured the mousetrap (grated Gruyere, since you ask) I tried to imagine what it would be like being stuck to a giant piece of hot toast that stunk of vegemite.

So I certainly shan't be needing these that my landlord left outside my door.

It would seem that people in Auckland have mousetraps on the brain. A one-trap mind, you might say.