Damn critter had to jerk and spasm. Infernally difficult to scoop up a loaded glue trap without putting fingerprints in the sticky stuff. Curious position of the doomed varmit. Half hanging off, perpendicular to the floor board, to which the trap laid flush. An acrobatic leap into the middle and a subsequent twisting flail to escape must be the situation. Dude was fucked however it occurred.

Ugly personal universe. Horrible petrified riddled death. Cozy hearth inviting, only to become instant perdition. It desperately wanted to live. My grimace the last living contact he will ever recieve. Unsacred trash pail burial ground.

I still feel uneasy about my role as death dealer. I take no pleasure in torturing those below me on the food chain. Sinister little fucks who torched ants, sprinkled salt on slugs and drowned stray cats. Always pitied the planet for the constant multiplying of these Denace the menaces. Sick pleasure in lording pain on unsuspecting animal kingdom. I've known too many underhanded predators, sparkle eyed grinning as they apply firecrackers to a tail. If ever a superior race of beings karmically jabs us with sticks from the comfort of the other side of the cage, I believe we well deserved it.

Hoping a warning beacon was sent through the walls. The comforts of my crib are treacherous. Evening cloak descended to the chimes of minature teeth grating against my borders. Christdammit. Placed the other two traps down, contemplating the poison tactic. You innocent little devils gotta stop boring holes in my shit.

Wishing to be left to my guilt, I blanketed up on my couch. Same ghetto slime cranks the stereo. Started somewhere in the early afternoon. Constant pervasive bass needle. Screaming and shouting. Lasted until the small hours of night. Luckily, a splendid son of the Caribbean gave his cherished a gift of christmas fist. Obviously, the only possible reason your din could ever end would be by the initiation of retarded violence. Congratualtions for pressing the wax seal on my anti mirth declaration. The gathering of your family into a drunken piss fest that spoils any possible peace for people, like myself, who would have been contented to leave everyone to their holiday. You fucking rutting animals have a wonderful domestic turmoil season.

So, is it over? Can you stupid assholes take it down now? Oh right, amateur night is in a week. Crashing my hood to party another year away? Excellent. I love you bridge and tunnel invaders so much my cheeks ruby bright at your visage. Certainly, travel from far and wide to use my hood like toilet paper.

The decorations will stay up for another month I suppose too huh? Conifers shedding foilage for some time on my sidewalks still? Yes please, oh please, I beg you to crowd my pedestrain routes further.

Foil baubles will continue to dangle. Frosted windows continue to accept useless finger dragging graffiti. Mirthful excuses will continue, insisting I accept other's lack of responsibiltiy in lieu of the occasion. Absolutely, I should suffer. I should be forced to lack happiness. You people are right, it's the best time of year. Joy joy to the world all ye faithful. I'm gonna go put a candy cane up my dick.