VII: The Mice

The mice in my neighbour’s garden were bred in a lab. After six months of frequent MRI and rodent-appropriate quantities of cocaine, they’d fulfilled their duties to science, but instead of gassing them, he took a few home. “I’d done in too many mice that day,” he told me. “Just wanted to let them out a bit. See the sun, stretch the legs. Tell you the truth, the parents were special breeds and I kind of hoped the children would be interesting. No luck though. One of the babies was a bit funny — liked to eat butter and had a very morose disposition. The others were just plain mice.”