Wednesday, December 17, 2003

We had a vermin infestation here at the office, and a fieldmouse got caught in one of the traps. Our office manager, who is, despite a rugged backhollows childhood, a hopeless softie, has adopted the blasted thing as a pet. He's got it in a trash can on his desk, with his desklamp as a sunlamp, torn-up tissues as bedding, and a handful of popped popcorn as food. He was outraged when I offered to dispose of the critter.

I've suggested that he name it "Stomp".

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