to cruelly murder or not to cruelly murder. that is the plague-infested question

They like cappuccino mix. They like chocolate. They like most things they can nibble through.
I cleaned out the cupboard because it was getting out of hand. They left their excrement everywhere, even in the very food they ate.
"Who does that?" I yelled at the sky. "Who just poops while walking along? What is wrong with them?"
I dirtbusted as much as I could, waiting to disinfect and set traps for later.
While I sat on the couch, I heard a chittering. A skittering. I snuck slowly to the cupboard. I opened the doors.
Two mice started running for the hills. One was on the bottom shelf and quickly jumped into the crack between the baseboard of the cabinet and the wall. The second, meatier mouse went for the wall too. He had to wriggle in between the top shelf and the wall to get to his hideaway. His fat body got stuck upside down between the wall and the shelf. He wriggled, straining, yearning for his heaving masses to be free. He finally wiggled through and took to the ominous hole.
Behind me, my coat fell off the couch and I screamed, thinking the mice were attacking me from behind.
I thought about crying.
I’m still considering it.

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