It was then that I was sent off to war. I must admit that it was not a war that I wished to fight, and considered placing myself among the conscientious objectors (like those who have left the nation bound for Canada in times of drafts), but conscientious objection at our house leads to things far less appealing than Canada, so I marched off to war (the local hardware store), like a good soldier.
"No," she replied, "THAT smell!" Which I thought was a bit over-reactive, because the scent of a poison killed decaying mouse corpse is, while slightly less aromatic than a bouquet of flowers, not anything like a morgue, for God's sake (unless you were actually a mouse, then it would probably smell exactly like a morgue to you, but only a mouse morgue which, while still somewhat macabre, would have to be at least sort of cute, because it's a mouse morgue after all).
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