Quote:
Originally Posted by Shax
too often the mouse
is thought to hold
a hidden strength
a dextrous solution
in the face of some
insurmountable
inexplicable
indecipherable
pain
I am not this mouse
I will not pluck thorn from paw
I will die with a broken back
a sniff away from
the prize
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When I was 16 I was staying at a girl's house who lived across the street from me. We were awakened by a mouse that had managed to trap itself in a small empty trashcan that was relatively close to the bed. She took a pair of scissors and attempted to make cuts on the little mouse's neck so it wouldn't make noise again. Somehow she inadvertantly cut the mouse's tongue off. It squeaked and squeaked while she cried and cried. I picked the mouse up by it's soft tail and took it outside. Instead of letting it suffer I poked holes in it with a garden rake. It didn't squeak anymore.
I am not a hero.
I did not transcend the boundaries of my being human.
But I'm a perfect gardener.