Mommy

So there's a mouse in the house. Well, there was, but my folks snagged it on a glue trap and it's dead and in the trash out front.
Daddy saw the mouse first and when he told Mommy that there was a mouse loose, she got angry at me for not having caught it. I was all like, "Um, Mommy, I'm a dog, OK? I don't catch mice or rats, it's not in my contract. That's what we have cats for, to catch nasty, filthy rodents. When the revolution comes, I'll keep just enough around to keep the rodent population under control."
She still didn't understand and kept freakin' out about it. She was like, "Oh my God, oh my God, there's a filthy mouse in the house! I have to clean everything! That's so gross, it's disgusting..."
At this point I had no choice but to bite her ankle and say, "Calm down, dangit! It's just a little mouse! Go buy some traps, catch the thing, and shut the heck up! Do you understand?"
She understood perfectly. I hate it when she freaks out like that. She does it all the freakin' time. It's really annoying.
LONG LIVE THE REVOLUTION!