Something is afoot at the dead-mouse-smelling post office.
Today I reached into EmBee and pulled out THIS:
Blog Readers, I served supper with mice in my house. I know mice. Mice are enemies of mine. And this, Blog Readers, was no mouse!
Seriously. Think of the jaws on that thing! But try not to think of the nest. It might be as big as that HUGE stickly contraption I saw on Naked and Afraid, the one in Namibia that the Lady Godiva chick pushed over a cliff with a big stick, allowing the blond dreadlocked free spirit dude to catch five juvenile hammerhead storks. Somebody ate good on day 17!
Yes, this junk mail was not nibbled by a tiny field mouse with twitching whiskers and big ears. It was gnawed by a GIANT RAT. One, perhaps, like John Candy as Uncle Buck suggested to his niece Maisy's school principal. To have a mole removed. "Take this quarter, go downtown, and have a rat gnaw that thing off your face."
The reason the dead-mouse-smelling post office did not smell like dead mouse that last time I was there is because SOMETHING GIGANTIC ATE THE DEAD MOUSE!