Death of a winning streak, rebirth of the war

Out of the blue, someone acquainted with my longstanding offensive against the guerrilla units of rodents that frequently overrun my white trash estate said to me: "I haven't read any columns about mice lately — you haven't had any problems with them this spring?"

What?! Shhh! Shut your pie hole, fool. I wanted to say.

What kind of question is that? I mean, really, does this person, this harbinger of ill luck and doom, not understand how the universe works? You don't go drawing attention to some things, like really good things that have the potential to morph into really bad things, especially...