Where Do The Dead Mice Go?
My fingernails have grown long and caked with dirt. My father never hit my mother, but he thought he was a playboy and ran around with women all the time. She had enough of it and tossed him out he ran off and gave me money later, but not at the time. When I was ten I had to start taking care of my mother. She was good to me, but she needed my help. I was always working seven days a week. I had to, so I could keep a roof over our heads. I had been taking care of my grandmother for years before I took care of my mother, my grandmother was sick, but proud, her son, my uncle, put her in a nursing home, it killed her. She didn't want to go and my mother didn't want to go either. My landlord finally threw me out of my apartment even though I had been living there for thirty years. I missed the rent just a couple of times. I miss my mother and my father tried to be a good guy. He gave me some money. He wanted to give me a house too, but somebody else got it first and it didn't go to me. There's so much dirt under my fingernails that I don't think I can ever get it all out. My landlord wanted to charge me to haul stuff away, but that stuff wasn't mine. There was a dead mouse near the steps to my new apartment the other day. The mouse isn't there anymore. Who took it and what did they do with it?