I saw you, you jerk. You ran right past me twice–and I'm pretty sure the last time you stopped and flipped me off.
I was going to try to catch you and let you go, but I have cleaned your filthy fecal matter off my counter one too many times. Who poops on the counter?!?! Jerk.
So, I admit it, last night I bought the kind of traps that snap your little spine. And I'm feeling rather bloodthirsty about it–I ran downstairs this morning like it was Death Christmas. As I looked forlornly at my set yet empty traps you ran right in front of me, did a vault OVER the trap, and flipped me off on the landing. What. The. Hell?!?
This is war mouse.
This is war.