And it was one of my own design.
I had been left to my own devices, somehow. Sent on an expedition to replenish the pantry. My mission was to acquire the necessary foodstuffs to keep the family going for one more week. So, of course, my first stop was to the hardware store. Lowe's. There was a line that needed to be drawn, and the time had come that I could no longer ignore past transgressions. Accounts would be made. Payments made in full. Balance restored. That was the way it had to be. It wasn't for sport; I took no pleasure in it. It was a grim responsibility.
"Where do the mice go after you catch them?" she asks, eyes wide.
My children were both looking up at me, their faces the very definition of childlike wonder. They knew only curiosity. They didn't know where it might lead or that they might not like where it took them. They knew only that they must follow wherever it beckoned. That is the Childhood Creed that we are eventually all guilty of breaking. Payment made in full...
Standing with one hand on the garage door and the other holding a knotted plastic Walmart shopping back to keep its contents sealed, "Outside. I set them--they go outside."
"Can I see?" My son this time. Looking down into his eyes, his face, life, how can I tell him that I am a dealer of death? How can I explain my grizzly business? Convince them the monster is really still a man?