mouse liberation front

big j, yo bro-- i got forgot to tell you-- you're both part of the mouse liberation front with soymilk and i. when a mouse makes plastic shaking noises because he's trapped in a grey live-release victor, it's a pair of us who leads him to freedom-- whether he needs to be shaken to leave the dark box, or whether he leaps out at us and bounds down citadel hill like a greyhound who's just heard the shot that means go (i guess we know which mouse this was-- ahem! jumping out of the cupboard at us-ahem!). we are the mouse liberation front. we catch mice using good-for-nothin'-else whole wheat snair's bread and some shit brand of peanut butter. not one, but both. a mouse fucking sandwich. this is the way the mice at maynard like it. two in a week is our count so far-- two mice tempted by the very food on which ernest hemmingway wrote all his best works. we're not finished yet, tho. another mouse has been spotted-- no fucking surprise. the traps have been reset-- thanks to agent yo bro. the beads of sweat and piss, the caked on shit has been removed to the best of our collective ability. the smell of fear has been washed from the traps. come out come out wherever you are. we'll release you with your family on the hill. we won't stop until the census at maynards street shows:
mouse population: 0.
you're lucky we're kind-- else we'd annihilate you.