Thieving Mice
For most wanted criminals, performing a robbery in a university center might seem a lucrative opportunity to steal grossly overpriced school merchandise, a package belonging to another student, or even, if one is particularly daring, a beverage not included in a meal block taken in lieu of a water bottle and never paid for. But such lowly crimes do not even fall within my purview – I am concerned with something bigger than any of you could possibly imagine.
I’m a hardened criminal, with nerves of steel and a quick thinking mind that has gotten me out of quite a few pinches; but as I age, I find myself losing my touch. My thoughts are no longer occupied by dreams of danger and intrigue and petty theft – I am ashamed to say that I have recently begun my prescribed duty of sucking up to HR representatives from Proctor and Gamble in hopes of landing a midrange job modulating razor blade angles for the next thirty years, and have been left with no time for the art of the heist.
It was for this reason that I began searching for a new purpose in life; a new way to let my legacy live on long after I myself have left these hallowed halls. And that was when the answer scampered across my feet while I was buying a single KitKat bar at Entropy.
What does the university center have a devilishly high excess of? What is something I can train? Can use to my own benefit? What is something that wouldn’t be missed even as its population dwindled… and dwindled… and dwindled…
Mice.
My game? The mice heist.
My name? The mouse houst.