There is a mouse in my house

There is a mouse in my house. I know this, because I saw it come out of the hole in the wall just the other day. I didn't know I had a hole in my wall until a few days before, when I moved the tv to a new spot in the living room. After I saw the mouse, I shoved a poison block into the hole and placed other blocks around the kitchen. That night a mouse dragged a half-eaten poison block into the middle of the kitchen floor. I think it was a 'horse head in the bed' message. I talked to my father about it. He said that the use of poison is cruel. He suggested that I use traps instead. While we talked, I stared at the hole in my wall and my father stood in his garden holding a pitchfork trying to kill a rabbit.

I should be used to mice, but I'm not. There were mice in my parent's house, but my father always took care of the traps. I was the son who would wake up in the morning and make loud noises before putting on his eyeglasses. This routine helped me avoid many unpleasant mouse encounters. When I lived in Guatemala, my housekeeper took care of the rodents.

I'm going to keep shoving poison blocks into the hole in the wall. When I run out of blocks I'm going to move the tv back to its old spot.