killed a mouse today. it was stuck in glue. I decided that it would be impossible to pull off of the trap, but I was lying to myself. The exterminator that gave it to me said that grease could be used to slide it off, but that I’d be better off just tossing it into the dumpster alive. I took a plastic grocery bag and wrapped it around the trap, with the mouse squirming and wreathing around so hard that its hair was being pulled apart from the skin, partially freeing its torso and one back leg. then I set the bag on the ground, applying enough force around the mouse to make the H.E.B. logo form a silhouette of the rodent’s pointlessly twisting body. I looked down at the brown leather boots that I slipped around my feet only a moment ago, for this one purpose. I thought about that it was cruel to have waited this long. I had left the mouse outside all night, to await its execution, with the piece of yellowing provolone that I had used to trap it lying on the things face. When I checked on it in the morning it was lying still, the only evidence of life being the fiercely pounding chest area which housed its heart. then I dropped my foot down – a little too soft. I didn’t hear a sound, but worried that it had somehow survived, so I stomped once more, hard enough to make the apartment stairs shake. Lifting my leg I was able to see the red guts adding color to the white bag. I imagined a clear image of its stomach and liver lying next to it. I would have done this last night but I was too tired from watching TV and ______________. So I placed the deceased in another grocery bag, this one not transparent, and tossed it in the garbage alongside three old pizza boxes, and went back inside to take off my boots and eat biscuits topped with melted butter and strawberry jam.
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