Saturday, December 15


Mouse Hunt, Pars Secunda

For those of you who have been making inquiries, I have not had the apartment fumigated (with incense) nor exorcised by my parish priest, nor have I bought a cat. I don't really trust them, anyway. My grandmother had one, Min-Min, that made friends with the mouse it had been sent to kill, in approved Disney-movie fashion, so I tend to be suspicious. The glue-traps stand empty, and I've not heard any suspicious scurryings, so either they're ninja mice with the Zen power of invisibility, or they took one look at a bleary, pyjama-wearing, prayerbook-waving weirdo with an iron candlestick in one hand and have run off in sheer terror.

In any case, I don't have to look or see the disgusting little animalcules, so case, closed, for the moment, anyway.

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