Caught a mouse in my house, and put him in

Caught a mouse in my house, and put him in my shoe

and that mouse bit the heck out of me and gave me rabies. Why I put him in my shoe eluded me after the onset of rabies, but I'm sure it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Just like all my other brilliant ideas such as sleeping with mice; teaching mice how to read; eating mouse food, in other words, s--t, etc. This was no rabies either, I was becomin

a frikkin mouse already. I took a hard look in the mirror. "Tom, get it together. You're a cat. A ferocious mouse-eating cat. That lowlife Jeffy tricked you again. Eat him." Jerry

or Jeffy,I wasn't sure anymore. My alter ego Tom had taken over. You try drawing 100s of stills of a cartoon character a day without losing it. I ambushed Jeffy at the copy machine

and shoved his (my) head facedown on the glass surface, pushed the Start button. As he (I) screamed, the eeries green glow of the copy machine scanned his (my) features, creating a

d. But I (he) was wrong about that. I (he) wanted to divorce myself (himself). Did I (he) just write that? Is this how he (I) find out? I (he) admit it to ourselves.

The shrink looked at me (him) over her half-moons. "Vat ve haf here," she said in a comedy German accent, "is a klassik case of moody multiple personalities. Pull yourselves togezz

er now und you'll feel much better." I (he) nodded, then looked at her cross-eyed before twirling away into the infinite darkness. Gerbils scattered out of my (his) brain.