deathpixie | NanoWriMo 2009

There was something in the humane trap. She could hear it, skittering around and making little squesking noises.

She groaned. She hated it when they caught something. She hated the noises, hared peering inside and seeing those beady little eyes peeking back at her. Her husband had pointed out in that maddeningly calm and logical way of his that it was better than waking up and finding one in the bedclothes, or, even worse, one in with the baby. They could, he'd suggested, not at all seriously, that they could go back to the regular traps, and then she'd have to deal with broken, bleeding bodies, heads squashed and contorted...

She'd gotten the point and hadn't complained about the humane traps again.

There was another scuffling noise from the slim metal cylinder and she sighed and picked it up. The horrible little creatures loved it down beside the cooking unit - all the spilled food and warmth, she supposed - and if it hadn't been for the fact they had a baby in the house, she would have laid down poison ages ago. The squeaking from the trap sounded almost outraged as she tilted it, feeling the weight within slide down one end. Grimacing, she peered inside.

Ugh! Two of them!

She let the lid drop closed again and went to call pest control. Humans! Oh, how she hated the little hairless pests!