Move over Orson Wells….

There are mousies in the walls…a war of the invasion from the outside world. Illegal aliens all, crunching up the drywall and skittering, scuffling, at inconvenient hours. Bring on the warfarin- for where there is one, there are ten more! No more Mrs Nice Guy with the Reeses peanut butter cups- negotiations have failed miserably and the Chieftain of the Rodent Race sings operatically into the night, whiskers quivering with rebellion.

One thought on “Move over Orson Wells….

  1. I wonder what these mice talk about in their spare time. They must be getting worried at the strange behaviour of their landlords. I wonder if they think they’re your landlords…Cats seem to do that anyway. You think you’ve trained them to come toward you at mealtimes, while I bet they’re telling each other something like “Oh, here she comes. We found that if you meow sweetly and then walk three paces forward and one backward towards her, she will open the magic bin and put food in the bowl. You can’t mess up the steps though, she isn’t trained any other way and won’t know what to do…”

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