(no subject)
There lies a decapitated mouse on my doorstep.
It took me a few puzzled seconds to realise what it was: a little, lifeless bundle of grey fur with a slender tail, no longer to be deemed a pest in this immobilised state. I had thought I heard a distinct mewing outside the living-room window last night, but little did I suspect what bloodthirsty mischief the unknown feline must surely have been up to. The day's discovery provides a solemn postscript to the mouse affair of last autumn. How easily are my allegiances shifted; how easy the dispersal of corporeal integrity. The question is: do I believe in ill omens?
It took me a few puzzled seconds to realise what it was: a little, lifeless bundle of grey fur with a slender tail, no longer to be deemed a pest in this immobilised state. I had thought I heard a distinct mewing outside the living-room window last night, but little did I suspect what bloodthirsty mischief the unknown feline must surely have been up to. The day's discovery provides a solemn postscript to the mouse affair of last autumn. How easily are my allegiances shifted; how easy the dispersal of corporeal integrity. The question is: do I believe in ill omens?