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From: Roger B.
Category: Other stuff
Date: 16 November 2003


The other morning,I saw that the mouestrap by the bin, under the counter, next to the cooker, had caught its prey, it was flipped over, I presumed the body of the mousewas underneath.

Then, 10 mins later, I saw a mouse twitching its legs, head dead, on the wood floors, in the middle of my sitting room, near the armchair. I killed it. Put it out of its misery, reduced mine. Banged it with my shoe, soft enough not to splatter, hard enough to finish it off.

I wasn't reasoning, I thought somehow two mice had died. Their scurrying underneath the floorboards had been keeping me awake, I believed there could be any number of them. Of course the two dead mice were just one stong one who had struggled stunned from the trap in the kitchen, to the middle of the sitting room floor (small house).

Today I caught another one. I heard the trap twang downstairs. I hurriedly ended my phone conversation. This small mouse had been snapped in the neck. But it looked like an illustration of death through desire. Its nose tantalisingly close to the cheese, its head trapped by the sprung wire so it would never make it. No sign of blood or gore, just the brassy metal trap and stuck mouse, meaning perpetuity.

Actually sometimes the mice get the cheese without being trapped, and that's one reason they keep coming back. And I think I just heard the snap of the trap again, but perhaps I won't check till morning.

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