Yeah the mouse-bursting was awful. That part of the dream came on in super slow-motion, watching my foot descend down on mouse after mouse after mouse, and panning to the look on the faces of the kids, before and after my foot came down slowly onto the abdomen of the mice, and ground in it's heel, feeling their tiny little backs break, watching a stream of ropey little tiny murine intestines squirt out of their arses while their eyes bulged until they burst out of their sockets and ruptured, the mice shrieking in agony before they died, didn't even finish them off, just left them there to suffer.
IRL, I'd NEVER do a thing like that, although I do know what it looks like, after accidentally stepping on a dead sewer rat, and only knowing it when I heard the 'pfftthhweerrgghllllggnnhhhhhcrackcrackcrunchccraccckk' sound, and saw the rat's whitish-pale, seminecrotic intestines bursting out of its ass like a jet from a super-soaker water gun, and its head pop like an egg thrown at a hard surface, followed by the sensation of cracking little wee bones. Thank fuck it was very, very, very dead when the boot came down. The alternative is just too awful to think about.
I'm a real big animal lover, so that was a nightmare of a dream, actually torturing the poor things deliberately. My psyche obviously needed me to wake up, and take my seizure meds, and I was right when I twigged to that being the case even still in the dream.
I've actually gone to some significant risk to help animals in distress, or where nothing can be done, administer the last rites, in a quick and painless manner. Diving out into a road to save a stunned bird from being hit by a car, once. And another time, risking drawing out a S&W revolver, after finding a poisoned (obviously suffering, slowly) sewer rat in a train station, and rather than leaving it to suffer for days whilst it bled out and its kidneys shut down from the internal bleeding etc., I pulled the pistol and blew its poor, miserable ratty little head into instantaneous, merciful oblivion that it never saw coming. Just checked a quick look for cameras, whipped it out and pulled the trigger twice at point blank range between its eyes. No need to doubletap the poor sod, but I wanted to make extra-certain of a shot so far into the overkill range, that the poisoned rat, since I couldn't take the poor thing home, didn't have the means to cure it, or rat blood to transfuse, and I couldn't leave it to suffer days until I could take it to a vet who would probably have told me to fuck off even offering to pay for a sewer rat to be restored to health, I had to act as the angel of death for the poor wee mite.
I wouldn't tolerate an infestation in the home, but I'd only use catch and release traps, and seeing that poor shaking tiny thing like it was, it was its own kind of hell just to have to witness, and despite the handgun not being anything close to legal, it had to happen, and the rat had to be given the mercy of a quick ending that it never saw coming and that put it out of its tormented existence waiting to bleed out inside from the anticoagulant rat poison over days. At least it was fast, for the rat, and it didn't have time to suffer and squeal in pain like it was. I found I just couldn't walk away, knowing it was there. Can't remember if I missed my train or not. But I could have done time just for owning the piece, when I had that, never mind squeezing off a pair of rounds to double-tap a sewer rat.
The pigs would not have let me get away with it put it that way, just the ownership, bugger concealed carry of a loaded handgun at all, least of all in a train station and less still firing it. Just had to do it. Bang, bang, scratch one rat, regretting it wasn't a police officer, stow my pistol and then get the next train to go home in the filthy fucking cold miserable weather.
But, I just can't do it, leave animals in need like that, even if the task is grisly and awful and not without risk. I'll do it all the same. Although I prefer to take an animal in alive, and nurse them back to health. I've even had to perform surgery on a raven/rook before, to remove shotgun pellets after it had obviously been blasted. Kept the wee guy/girl as a pet afterwards.
And the there was the time where I'd dived into a road in front of a car to grab a sparrow that had stunned itself flying into a glass bus shelter or been hit by a car and KO'ed. Up my trench coat sleeve. On my way to the doctor's office. Only it warmed up, snuggled up my sleeve then shot out and went absolutely berserkirgang in my GP's office. Absolutely hilarious though, suddenly during the consultation, a little bird pelting out from my trench sleeve like a feathery little RPG and going twittering round the room like a mad thing. Took a fair while to recapture it too, and make sure I'd gotten a firmer hold on the wee guy. WAS going to take IT to a vet after my own appointment to see the people-doctor, but oh, no, it had to go and wake up at the one moment I just wanted it to stay warm.
And got a lecture never again to bring wild animals into his surgery from the GP. Although he couldn't help but see the funny side of it too, so he let me off with a just 'don't do that ever again!!!!!!' and I wasn't in any way punished. Actually it kinda looked like he was going to split at the seams laughing and was trying to control himself until I wasn't there to see him start cackling like a maniac at the scene that just unfolded before his eyes
Although my favourite was a baby hedgehog, of all my rescues. Such a tiny little wee mite. I'd located a baby one, in a back alley near where I used to live. WAY too minuscule to survive the winter. Indeed, I'm astonished it was alive when I found it, cold and hungry, near starvation and freezing to death.
So again, another little wee critter cradled in my palms, in a little spiky ball in that case, at first, and stuffed up my shirt in that case, to warm him/her up. Took him/her in, gave the tiny thing a name (sonic, lol what else could I have called the lil' bugger, but 'sonic', it WAS a hedgehog after all, and damn me to hell if I wasn't going to sit there and daily check up several times to make sure it did not enter torpor. Night and day. Sitting up with sonic, feeding it dog food, and giving it water, after a while a bowl, but at first, drops from the tip of my finger for it to snuffle at, until I'd given it enough, drop by single drop, that it wanted to snuffle for water no more, and sonic had had it's fill for the time being, or at least, thirst was quenched until he or she had eaten their meal it'd just had me bring to him/her little, tiny self.
Really was the tiniest, cutest wee thing, no bigger than a moderate sized orange, spines and all, with a little black nose poking out and four little wee feet poking out underneath. After a while, Sonic began to show me trust, and would come to me, when I'd come bringing food, and bringing water, and would walk onto my palm, to be cradled on my knees and allowed to keep nice and toasty warm whilst I made sure sonic had his/her fill of dog food and water, and occasional treats like fragments of hot crusty bread I'd save for him/her from a french loaf etc., or a niblet of cheese, not a huge lot, in case anything wasn't ideal hedgehog food, but I'd squirrel away snacks meant for me, and save Sonic a little taste of the finer foods given to me, morsels of fresh fruit and nice quality bread with a little niblet of stilton blue cheese if I could. (after all it was the middle of a harsh winter...how could *I* see fit to sit there, and stuff my face with xmas food whilst sonic were to go with only dog-food and plain water. Made sure not to overfeed any particular food group, but did make sure that Sonic got his/her taste of the good things in life (especially for a hedgehog, since it isn't as if they often encounter a gigantic mammalian biped who'll scoop them up out of the blistering cold, and nurse away their hunger and thirst, and bring them fine bread and cheese as little crusty warm tokens, or little cubes of the fruit that I was eating, I'd cut away and hand to my spiky little friend.)
I couldn't just sit there and stuff my own face with luxuries, and deny Sonic the odd treat outright. And he/she certainly seemed appreciative, with a little snuffle, and a little tiny black wet nose in my palm, away those morsels would go, packed down into a little full furry and contented hedgehog belly. Fuck me though, that was one CUTE little creature. I've seen young ones before, but never so tiny, looked barely weaned, sonic I mean, so scrawny and thin and so obviously cold and pretty miserable looking.
It was a real joy, as a kid, looking after Sonic, doing winter 'hedgehog-duty' (I.e all the time, with the odd break taken between feeds to go hit the lab and study too, to let me hair down, get the goggles and gloves on and make with the chlorine gas and the sulfuric acid and all the fine things in life one definitely wouldn't feed a hedgehog, the things that explode, make interesting colors, have neat medical or pharmacological-other properties, the things that stink something satanic, or the things that are super-corrosive and spontaneously induce things they touch to burst into flames. So I did have SOME Lestat-Time, to myself. But that year, was spent in getting sonic growing into a healthy, and pretty hefty proper young hedgehog, fit to be released again, much as I wish I hadn't had to to do the right thing by Sonic. Although he/she was always welcome back at my door just the same. And I'd still find some 'Sonic-Time', for keeping in touch, an autie kid and his wee hedgehog pal, scampering around on my knees and from out-held palm to outheld palm.
Today, went out shopping, to get nosh. Got nosh plus a couple of tins of cigars. And noticed on my bank statement after I'd done, I'd had £666 left
see?!? I WAS right. I am meant to be the emissary of Almighty Satan upon this earth, to walk the land and kill people for the greater glory of Hell's glorious Luciferian Regent.
Now where and who do I start....
Got plenty good grub and it only came out, even with the cigars to £30something.
