That was the night before Christmas, when all through the house, sound of a creature running, was it a mouse? I checked in the hallway, but nothing was there, could it be in the kitchen, i crept down the stairs; The dogs were asleep, curled up in their bed dreaming of treats, should i pet this little dogs head? smiling wide as he laid on his back, i reach my hand out and this ****ing bitch snapped, bloody and bleeding, i ran to the sink, my lady woke up, for a quaint little drink, gushing like a flood, hands shaking with pain, the living rooms bloody and covered in stains; just then i remembered that cute little mouse, i heard running around downstairs in my house, i wrapped up my hand, and went to go look, and saw a fat ****ing rat in the kitchen where i cook, could it be just a dream? tomorrow ill find out, if i wake up in pain and find blood through my house for now i will sleep and forget the night’s sh-t a broken hand and a rat is a terrible fit