My Grandpa was little and old. He sat all day long looking into his coffee cup and smoking. Sometimes he sat in the kitchen.

One day he saw a small mouse. He got up and rummaged through the junk drawer until he found a mouse trap. He set and baited it with peanut butter, placed it, then sat back down at the table.

He watched as the mouse ran up to the trap, jumped on the lever and ate.

He got up, picked up the trap and disarmed it. He sat down and pulled his bone handled pocket knife out of his brown nylon trousers. He carefully worked to modify the trap so that it was more sensitive. He reset the trap and put it back near the refrigerator.

He watched as the mouse ran up, jumped on the lever and ate, again.

He took up the trap and worked on it with his pocket knife again.

A week later he was sitting in the kitchen, watching for the mouse. It ran up to the trap. SNAP.

My Grandpa was sad that the game was over. He was shocked and surprised that the mouse was dead.