
Goddamn mouse
There are mice in my house. We have a mouse house. If you give a mouse a cookie, he’ll eat part of it and you’ll get Hanta virus when you try to eat the rest the next day.
Last year, my friend Sheeho came to visit me in San Francisco. At some point during his travels, he had picked up a large bag of Ghirardelli spooge-filled chocolate squares, and one day while I was at work, he set himself to consuming one-by-one the entire bag’s worth of candy, while watching season one of The Wire in my room. A sizable collection of spooge-filled-chocolate-square-scented wrappers began to accumulate in a paper bag next to his chair, as he greedily sated his gluttonous soul with a variety of gooey chocolates.(1) After amassing his Santa sack of mouse bait, he, much like a nesting mouse, tucked the paper bag into a forgotten corner of my bedroom. (more…)
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