I always thought about how I’d kill Jerry the mouse. I think I’d start by pressing down on his little tummy with my thumb, gradually, so at first it tickled and made him burp. But I wouldn’t stop applying pressure, and slowly I’d shift all my body weight on my thumb. Through his skin I’d feel the underside of his thorax cavity slide over my thumb. I’d feel his little entrails push to the sides of his belly, like pressing down on a bag of jelly, until I felt the pop of his stomach and intestines. I’d watch the edges of his skin slowly tear, like dry leather, as the pressure of my thumb pushes all his organs to the side and up his chest. His esophagus would be pushed up his throat, out his mouth. The pressure would balloon his guts out his rear. I’d watch as all the blood pressure bloats the extremities not under the weight of my thumb, until they, like overfilled balloons, POPPED at the seams. All that would be left is the flattened piece of hide that is his torso, his arms and head and legs gone, split open like ketchup packets