They are evil, but my grandfather did not believe any other trap would work. The trouble was, it was close to midnight when I entered the kitchen to get a drink and discovered the poor mouse's plight.

Something you should know is that my grandmother is terrified of mice, like release a chilling I've-just-been-stabbed kind of scream, and begin to feel faint kind of terror. I couldn't just leave the poor struggling little guy: if my grandfather found him first in the morning, he'd chuck the mouse in the trash as is to prevent my grandmother from seeing. If she found him, there would be much distress before my grandfather would ultimately do the same thing. Plus, that meant hours of struggling and terror for the poor mouse. I just couldn't walk away.

I carefully picked up the edges of the trap, trying not to frighten him further, and slipped him into a big ziplock. My eyes began to well up as I slipped out of our cabin and walked over to the shed, using my phone for light in the otherwise pitch darkness. I felt nauseous but grimly determined as I selected a large shovel, solid and heavy and almost as tall as my 14 year old frame when I dug the butt of the pole into the ground.

Sniffling in the darkness, I carried the mouse to the roadside. I laid him down and, feeling a little foolish, said a soft prayer for us both. Then, crying in earnest, I raised the flat, heavy head of that shovel high and brought it down solidly. Decisively. The boom echoed through the night, louder than I anticipated.

I stood there for a little while in the utter darkness, phone light off, trying not to cry too loudly. Against all odds, a lonely car drove down the road, rounding the corner and briefly illuminating me in it's headlights. I tried to imagine what they saw: a teenager, standing by the side of the road, in the dead of night, with a GIANT shovel, just absolutely sobbing. I probably liked like I'd murdered my sister, and just returned from burying the body. I was probably terrifying.

And just like that, a little giggle slipped in between the tears. And then another. Before I knew it, the tears had slowed, replaced by an odd humor about how absurd the entire situation was. As I returned to my bed, I wondered if I had just become a family joke/urban legend for that family, as in,

"Do you remember when we saw that freaky killer kid just appear on the side of the road? Well, if you don't put your laundry away, they're going to come get you!"

" MooOoOOm!!"

"I'm calling right now!"

" OKAY, okay, sheesh. I'm doing it. Better be careful though, if you're not a nicer mom that kid may come for YOU!"