Three Blind Mice = cute story, Nine Dead Mice = tragic

My husband and I just recently saw a little mouse running around in our garage. We only ever just saw one mouse at a time so naturally we assumed we only had the "one". Eventually we decided having a mouse around really wasn’t the most sanitary thing ever so we decided to set a few mouse traps. Let me preface this by saying I was so mortified at the thought of killing, and perhaps torturing, the poor little thing, I could barely bring myself to set the traps. Little live mice, very cute to me, the thought of dead mice, a nightmare, but Griffin assured me that they died instantly and wouldn’t feel a thing. So we set up four separate traps all around our garage, not knowing where we would catch it. Oh and have you ever set mouse traps? Let me tell you, it is fucking painful. I cannot tell you how many times it snapped back onto my fingers. Damn that stings. If you know anything about me, I’m incredibly jumpy. Each time I would get it set and attempt to gently place it on the ground, SNAP. AGH!!!! There goes a few more years off the old ticker. Griffin actually found it most amusing to watch.

Then can you imagine our surprise the next morning when all four traps were full? But wait, surely we only had one mouse. How could there be so many if we only saw one at a time? Oh and have I mentioned that the thought of dead mouse bodies makes me so crazy and freaked out you’d think they were going to attack me or something? I mean really. I couldn’t even go near them. We immediately set two more traps and that evening when we got home from work they were both full. Oh Come On Already! We appeared to have a full blown killing spree on our hands. Quick, send up the Bat Signal for heavens sake!! We’re going to need some serious help. With the death toll on the rise we set the three remaining traps we had right away. Later we were standing at the top of our driveway watching the sunset when we heard three quick snaps...pop, pop, pop. We both looked at each other wide eyed still able to hear a weird scratching noise. Griffin walks to the back of the garage where we set the traps and returns to where I’m standing with a very disturbed look on his face.
“Okay, I guess I was wrong. Sometimes they do apparently suffer and struggle.”
WHAT DID HE JUST SAY??? GULP

And thus, my friends, ends the Griffin’s murder spree.
Death toll to date: 9