Bleeeeech

Dear Mouse In My Laundry Room,

OK, I am only going to say this once. Get. The. Hell. Out. I am not kidding, dude. You are grossing me out and causing a major laundry crisis in our house. Because every time I go into the laundry room I have to clean up a big pile of your crap. Then I have to take a shower. And taking four showers a day is getting old. And expensive-my shampoo isn't cheap!
So have a heart, little furry dude. It's the holidays. My husband is out of clean underwear and I am seriously considering heading to Target to buy him more just to avoid having to deal with any more of your fecal matter. Consider this a warning. I've called a professional and put a hit out on your ass. I had no choice. My sheets are starting to smell.
Don't look at me like that. If you had stayed outside where you belong, none of this would have happened. But you had to come inside and crap all over my linoleum. God help you if you manage to make it past the impenetrable barrier I have constructed out of rolled up towels and into the rest of the house. God help us all.

Die mouse die,

Monkeysparkets