the king of lames

the mouse is keeping me up again so i have set the trap under my bed. i don't think it'll fall for it but i do think the lingering smell of a slow dark death might keep it away. see it's one of those humane ones that don't kill. problem is it was being kept in my folks garage for a few years and no one ever noticed the last mouse caught in it until a partially decomposed skeleton was poured out.

maybe it ate its own feet for feed. maybe not

i can see it right now in fact, its not very good at hiding.

today was spent on the serious business of childrens card games and i'm both slightly proud and ashamed to say i came up top trumps. also i got marginally drunk on scummy whisky and made midnight pancakes for one, on account of the fact my lovely lady is back on her little rock. little tip to all the men here-chicks don't dig it when you call them quaint peasant farm girls.

the moon looks like a toenail and the streetlights make it seem lacking in calcium. last time i looked it was full and i was drunk. i think we tend to look up more when we're on the hooch. but only when outside. inside we look down and pretend that we aren't wanting to be looked at ourselves.

its staring at me again, tail raised like a scorpion. better not sting