Mouse hysteria is the background to the story. We had an infestation.
It invaded every aspect of living there. We’d put loads of traps down, never caught one. We hadn’t been able to sleep for days.
Hysteria. Our beds were in the middle of our rooms, and we’d barricaded under them. One night, it's just us in the house. It’s later than the wee hours of the morning. Bron is an absolute legend and throws an empty waste paper basket on top of a mouse to capture it. This now presents a new problem: we’ve got a bin over the mouse but what do we do now?
Sal goes over and opens the window and I get the waste paper basket and chuck it out into the rain. We've killed a mouse. We decide then and there to dig it a grave in the flower bed and get bagpipe music on our phones. It’s raining a lot but we need to. It needed to be done. And then we call our mums. We can’t describe how out of character it was for us. Like, have you seen Fargo? It was a very vulnerable creature. Our tattoo honours the mouse. Some part of us thought, if we get a tattoo, we’ll be absolved of this because we’ve acknowledged it. We did the eye for an eye. We put it through pain so we’ll put ourselves through pain. Two vegetarians as well.
told by bron and sal