Dear little brown mouse, house guest of Apartment 17,

I do not hate you because you are a mouse. on the contrary, I really kind of like mice. I've had mice as pets. I saw your face once, I thought you were pretty cute. I even ordered you a no kill mouse trap, so I can release you into the park.

That having been said. Can you stay out of my room? There is no food in there for you. zero food. I swear. I know its a little messy, but actually that makes it all the more creepy to me that you're in there. and all the more dangerous. Cause what if I step on you? I'm kind of a giant compared to you.

I know you're just trying to do your thing and all, and I can respect that, but the thing is, I sleep on the floor, and I just flat out don't want you in my bed. No offense. I just have this people only rule for my mattress. And I don't trust you not to cross that line for a few reasons. Well, three reasons. Firstly, I don't know you that well, so we haven't had time to establish a bond, or share secrets or any of that. Secondly, you're a wild city mouse, and you probably live by your own rules. Third, you don't know what a bed is.

Sure, I could pick my shoes up off the floor, and put my bed together, and not have to worry about you so bad. But I don't want to. Its my right to live on the floor like a hippy. I pay six hundred and fifty five dollars a month plus utilities for that right, and you don't, and you making me sleep on the couch is just flat out rude. There I said it. You're rude. and I want you to get out of my room until I can trap you in about three days. I promise you'll be happier in the park anyway. Plenty of people sleep there, but they're homeless, so who cares.

Love,
Amanda