ÜberElder was collecting our newspapers from the driveway this morning ("Yay! It's Two-Newspaper Day!" she shouted, since our local weekly paper comes on Friday), and as she came through the door she calmly announced, "There's a dead mouse on the steps."
More precisely, half a mouse lay on the steps -- with scattered mouse bits in the surrounding area. It was the tail section. Miss Muffin brought us a gift! But, like the time I bought my brother a bag of M&M's only to find temptation irrisistable in the back seat of the car on the ride home, she ate half of it.
While Dilf realized he'd half to dispose of the corpse and I pondered if an ass-end on a pike outside my house would have the same effect as a head on a pike, Elder calmly noted, "I hope she didn't eat the eyeballs. I hope she scraped them out first."
Dilf turned slightly ashen and sputtered, "I haven't had my coffee yet!" I internally pledged to blog this precious moment. Elder matter-of-factly replied, "Well, you shouldn't eat eyeballs."
You heard her, folks. Don't eat eyeballs.
