I’ve lived through a lot in my life. I was just a boy when the National Socialist Party first rose to power in Germany, and I was only 17 when I got drafted to fight against the Reich on the beaches of Northern France. Such horrors I witnessed those terrible years, I shall never forget – it was a period of my life that cost me not only one of my legs, but my peace, my sanity and my very soul. But I’d do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant I could bring an end to the depraved Private Little, who fought alongside us. Most men in my battalion were drafted into the war, like I was. Young, terrified boys we were – too innocent to comprehend the unspeakable terrors of what was to come. Not Little though. The fucking rat signed himself up gladly, not for any noble duty to his country, no, but instead for the chance to kill freely, to crush the life out of anyone who stood before him. While our eager eyes were filled with fear and naïvity, his were empty and porcelain, blind to compassion and showing nothing but bloodlust. We had just learned to fear battle back then, but we were foolish not to already fear the fucking scourge that was Private Little. As the war dragged on, our spirits fell. I lost many good friends in Europe…Watts, Lewis, Rains…All good men who deserved so much better than what fate dealt them. We became jaded in war, our spirits slowly tarnished and faded, like the slow decay of the heart from a dead tree. We were weak. All except Little. With every passing day, the deplorable fucking rodent grew more manic, laughing and hooting with glee as he added more and more notches to his rifle. It was truly a chilling sight to see Little in action – the shitbag rat was no larger than the clips of his own M1 Garande, yet in the heat of battle the cunt rodent wielded it with ease. He slaughtered hundreds, if not thousands, during the short time we were deployed together, earning himself the nickname of ‘Der Weiße Albtraum’ among the enemy lines. His prowess and bloodlust in battle was legendary, but more chilling was his attitude towards us, and the war itself. He revelled in slaughtering the Germans, but seemed almost captivated by their fascist ideology. “I’ve seen him hailing at night” Lewis whispered to me one day, as we both watched the hairy little fuckrag playing five-finger fillet with a sewing needle. “It’s almost as if he wants to fight for the krauts instead”. I agreed with him at the time, but today I know better. It doesn’t matter which side the little fucking cheddar-stain fights on, for he fights not for any ideology. He wishes only to kill. To maim. To murder. It was on my last day of deployment when that murderous fucking cunt of a rodent decided to show us his true colours. As the rest of our battalion pushed forward to beat back the enemy, some of my closest comrades and I were forced into a dugout by some enemy fire. It was here that the bloodthirsty fucking bastard turned his gun on us, a triumphant gleam in his beady little eyes that I’ll never forget. Watts took a shot to the kidney, crying out for his mother as he bled out onto the dirt. The fucking traitorous rat cunt then unloaded an entire clip into Rains, before drawing his pistol and shooting me once through the ribs and thrice in the thigh. I still remember his pure evil fucking asshole face gloating above us as my vision went black, his little red eyes burning into my vision forever as I saw him toss a grenade into our dugout. I was the only one who survived. Now I am old, my body weakened and my mind feeble. I know I will die soon. But that fucking white furry devil still looks just as young as he did during the war. Every time I see him on TV, I fucking shake with rage and regret. I don’t know what kind of ungodly creature he is, but he is no normal rodent. We should have killed him. I should have shot him in his sleep when I had the chance. He has to die. After all the deaths I caused in the war, I know I’ll end up in hell. But I hope I don’t see Little there. He deserves so much worse than hell. He deserves all the pain he has inflicted. I want to crush the life out of him myself – to flay his little hide raw and fling him against the wall by his stupid fucking tail. Fuck you, Stuart Little.