scribblingwren avatar


Sixteen tubs of vanilla ice-cream were melting on the kitchen worktop and there was no room to butter my toast.

“Can you check the traps again? I just need four more…” He shouted as he pulled another roasting tray from the oven.

I exhaled slowly, choosing my words really carefully.

“Could we chat later? I really need to get to work and I’m not sure Mice Cream is the answer you hope it’ll be”

He replied dropping the roasted mice in the blender with ice cream
“Pet food is big money.”

Our own cats were nowhere to be seen.

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