My children have learnt to fear me. I have killed and nothing will ever be the same again.

It all started as I was beating the bounds of the estate late on Saturday night. The cattle lay easy in their stall, the distant sounds of giraffes hunting in the undergrowth and polar bears slept silently in their nests. All was well as I settled the shutters and locked the gates. I took one last look around the kitchen only to be suddenly drawn by movement by the settee. I glanced down and my eyes were met by the hideous cruel black pupils of a mouse. It must have been 80 millimetres long if it where an inch and we stood rooted to the spot staring at each other. In that one moment we knew, as if thorough some primeval sense, that only one of us was going to see the dawn.

The mouse moved first it leapt towards me and I went to parry, but it had only be a fake. It shot off towards it's lair in the hideous dark recesses between the dishwasher and the cupboard. 

I knew there was nothing for it. I went to attic and whilst muttering a prayer of ritual cleansing, retrieved my implements of death. One trap, left by my mentor in death, the local council rodent operative. I reverently carried it down stairs, and offered up the traditional sacrifice of Edam cheese with a blob of peanut butter.

I edged down into the dank, dark entrance to the hideous cavern, and with great fortitude, set the trap in the entrance. I withdrew carefully, brushing off my tracks with a bunch of twigs and left an appropriate warning for passers by on a Cheshire police constabulary post it note.

' WARNING LIVE MOUSE TRAP! '

 and as is the way of the warrior in such situations, I withdrew to my hut for my lonely vigil,and  abstained from sex ( Mrs Wyleu  was so terrified of the mouse it was out of the question anyway ).

I awoke on Mothering Sunday to the sound of the younger village residents excitedly jabbering.

'It's horrible', 'How could you be so cruel Daddy?'. I just looked into the distance and realised I had crossed to that land only known to one who has slayed to protect his family.

Mrs Wyleu, as the matriarchal head of the family pronounced, after due consideration. 

"You re going to clear it up aren't you?", but I could tell their was adoration in her voice. I said nothing. Ihave gathered and now I have hunted. The ancestors will be proud of me today.