They’re coming. Moving in droves- illegal aliens with whiskers that scratch and buck teeth that gnaw on plaster behind the walls of the bedroom at 2:45am. Forget the cheese and Reese’s pieces- this is war! No more negotiations under the lasagna pan- this mouse must go, and take all of his underlings with him. I have no intentions of setting up a shtetl for rodents. Time to call the Pied Piper.