I Think I’ll Call Him ‘Lunch’

So I walk into my room, like I do sometimes, but something’s different. Something…squeakily different, actually.

A mouse in a plastic box chillaxing on my great-grandmother’s little red table, to be more specific.

Cue shouts of my brother’s name combined with, “WHY IS THERE A MOUSE IN MY ROOM?!”

Apparently two mice were bought to be my brother’s python’s dinner. But Monty happened to die unexpectedly from unknown causes that day. Very unfortunate for Monty, but uber-lucky for the mice.

My brother apparently doesn’t like this one, but I can’t understand why.

It’s absolutely adorable. You should see the nose thing. The nose thing kills me.

Update: I know why. This mouse is a fucking ninja. A g-ddamn skydiving escape artist.

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