Now I Kill

{This Entry May Be Disturbing for Some Audiences}
Nearly three years of living in the Fortress of Solitude 2.0—after I re-upped for a fourth year—I got a visit from my first mouse last week.

Saw it sniffing around in front of the bathroom last Thursday morning. Not darting about: just casually checking out this and that.

I freaked.

Roaches are gross: agreed. But you can smash one with a rolled-up Entertainment Weekly and the show's over.

Mice are these little mammals. In the right context, they can be cute. They can be corporate mascots. They've got faces. Harder to kill something that's so easy to anthropomorphize.

This one didn't know what the fuck it was doing. Wandering around in the bright light. When I chased it, it didn't run into some secret passageway—no gothic archway carved neatly into the wall: it ran out the front door, down the hall and under the door of a neighbor's apartment.

Over the course of Thursday and Friday, I ran around the city looking for solutions.

I turned my apartment into a mousy death camp. Four different types of traps. From the classic snap-traps to glue-traps to "No View" killers.

Crashed at my girlfriend's place Friday night to let Death take over my apartment...

Returned home late Saturday morning, praying to find something dead...

... and I found this little guy:


Stuck in a glue trap. Still vainly trying to extricate himself as I delicately swept the trap into a plastic bag using disposable chopsticks. Its diminutive body breathing rapidly. Mouth worked into the glue, unable to scream.

I tied the bag closed. Ran it down to the trash area in front of my building.

Dropped it to the concrete... and gave it a few final mercy-kill stomps before tossing into the garbage bin.

Now you are dealing with a hardcore killer, Constant Reader.

I have become what I have needed to become. What I've been forced to become.

I kill things.

This is what you've made me, World. Are you satisfied?

Nothing can stop me now coz I don't care anymore...