John stabs mouse

I tried to think of a clever title for this post but I think this one gets the point across. We have been having mouse problems in our house. Our produce occasionally gets nibbled on and we often find little shits in our kitchen. We put out traps and poison, but the little bastards seem to survive. I got up one morning and saw one of the mice hunching behind a papaya on our counter top. He didn't see me as his head was down behind the papaya. Slowly, I crept over to the other side of the counter where we keep our silverware- including a very sharp knife. I grabbed the knife, crept up to the mouse and swung the blade down on the little shit-head. I felt the knife penetrate soft flesh and come to a stop on the wooden countertop. The mouse squealed loudly. I had him pinned to the countertop. I searched the counter for something to dispatch him with. I spotted the wine bottle that one of our fellow Peace Corps volunteers had given us. I brought the bottle down upon the mouse's head and it immediately went stiff. My heart was literally racing. I didn't feel the slightest bit of pity for the filthy little creature. Rather I felt proud and triumphant. Leslie and I had just finished reading Lord of the Flies and I couldn't help thinking of the chant, "Kill the pig, eat her flesh, spill her blood." The way I see it, if I'm becoming a bit of a savage it just means I'm adapting well.