The mouse ran back across the living room that evening, leading the sick-but-bored Nacho to rig up this contraption. I sat at the other end of the string, ready to pull it should the mouse come out for some cheese.
A moment ago, it dashed across the living room floor, paused underneath the coffee table, and then fled under the couch.
I am alone with this mouse.
I foresee a trip to the hardware store this afternoon.
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