Todd Terwilliger

Of Mice and Men

Another night, another face to face with the undocumented mice living behind my oven. Another night offensive, another counter-offensive. This cannot stand and must be dealt with but I’d like to do it humanely. The question is: how?

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The Pitter-Patter of Little Feet

I’ve been hearing things. Not big things. Small things. A little scratching maybe, some oblique shuffling perhaps. Nothing I could put a finger to concretely. However, after I convinced myself that I wasn’t hearing things that weren’t there, that I was, as a matter of fact and record, sane (or what passes for sane in an insane world), I determined that some thing or things were moving around behind my refrigerator and stove.

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