Okay so there is this mouse living in my attic and is driving me fucking nuts! I hear him up there, moving about, chewing on the wires or something.
The elusive fucker!
I think I'm going to dress in full winter snow warfare camouflage and hide out in the attack under the 3-4 feet of brite white insulation (the kind that looks like snow or cotton strands, not the pink bricks), with a fucking
bb sniper rifle and take the bitch out. I know where he likes to hang.
It would go down something like this:
(radio static)" 21463 this is razor. Target is in sight."
"Copy that razor. You have a go, take the subject out."
I sat there, with the mouse in my sights, staring back at me as if it knew what was coming. I had a moment of reflection as I pondered my own existence, and his. Though I can't be certain it's a he. How do you tell the gender of a mouse anyway. I didn't know the answer so I decided not to care. He was in my sights and it was my duty as a mouse hunter to take him out. And I will do my duty. This motherfucker is mine!
The bb fires from the weapon and hits the mouse between the eyes as if it were orchestrated by some higher power, like a director of a movie or video game even. Someone or some... thing... controling my every move.
The mouse, whatever it's gender, was about to experience it's final moment in this crazy fucked up world. What the fuck has he been eating up there anyway. I was probably doing him a favor.
His brains splattered all over the trusses in range, the snow white insulation fragments, and the black paper that coats the particle board of this side of the roof. It was glorious.
The elusive fucker!
I think I'm going to dress in full winter snow warfare camouflage and hide out in the attack under the 3-4 feet of brite white insulation (the kind that looks like snow or cotton strands, not the pink bricks), with a fucking
bb sniper rifle and take the bitch out. I know where he likes to hang.
It would go down something like this:
(radio static)" 21463 this is razor. Target is in sight."
"Copy that razor. You have a go, take the subject out."
I sat there, with the mouse in my sights, staring back at me as if it knew what was coming. I had a moment of reflection as I pondered my own existence, and his. Though I can't be certain it's a he. How do you tell the gender of a mouse anyway. I didn't know the answer so I decided not to care. He was in my sights and it was my duty as a mouse hunter to take him out. And I will do my duty. This motherfucker is mine!
The bb fires from the weapon and hits the mouse between the eyes as if it were orchestrated by some higher power, like a director of a movie or video game even. Someone or some... thing... controling my every move.
The mouse, whatever it's gender, was about to experience it's final moment in this crazy fucked up world. What the fuck has he been eating up there anyway. I was probably doing him a favor.
His brains splattered all over the trusses in range, the snow white insulation fragments, and the black paper that coats the particle board of this side of the roof. It was glorious.
bitten:
yup. reagan/costanzo family is the one I am on. I special ordered the channel so I can watch it. xo
emi:
Nah I just go wherever the boyfriend goes.