We disliked you when we heard you in the walls. We baited traps when we saw you peek out of the vents. We knew the war was escalating when we saw you scampering along the wall in the kitchen. We were shocked at your boldness skittering about at mid-morning. Now, you've crossed a line.
This afternoon, in the middle of the day, you snuck into the cupboard. (How? How?) You nibbled here, there. You left evidence.
We've had casualties: Wheat Bran, Whole Wheat Flour, All-Purpose Flour. Pawns. Easily replaced. You've had casualties, too. Kansas Dad has dispatched a few of your comrades already. You are next.
We are armed with three kinds of traps. We've installed devices to assault your ears. Our food is tucked away in plastic containers. You may see it. You may even smell it. You will not partake.
Consider this fair warning that you should retreat. You will not survive the offensive measures Kansas Dad has set in place. You fare a better chance against the owl.
I'm with her.
