Some Guinness was spilled on the bar room floor
when the pub was closed for the night,
when out of his hole crept a wee brown mouse
and stood in the pale moonlight.
He lapped up the frothy foam off the floor
and back on his haunches he sat,
And all the night long you could hear the mouse roar,
'Bring on the freaking cat!'

I'm not sure how to start this letter, so I'm going to jump straight into it and pour out whatever comes to my mind. I thought you -- the recepients -- would understand this the best. It's not something I can really tell just anyone because I feel like it's exposing myself a little more than I'm comfortable with ( Read more... )

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