The good news is that I’ve gotten rid of the mouse that’s been plaguing the apartment.
The bad news is that its corpse shows signs of having been scavenged upon by something larger.
I pop antiemetics like candies after discarding the trap and its contents, as my stomach has begun to disagree with me. The image of that…thing that used to be a mouse has hit me a bit more solidly than expected.
It’s not the gore itself that bugs me, I don’t think—it’s the rapid cannibalism, the fact that it was the rich organ meat that was consumed and nothing else, like the mouse that’s taking this one’s place is one bad motherfucker that knows EXACTLY how to become the fittest…ribs splayed open like a warning sign. Like this is intentional or something.
…Somehow I always end up with the crazy mice. And I thought the parkour building scaler was a hard trap.