This thread is not about literature but I'm going to try to keep it alive for one full week

this thread is not about literature but I'm going to try to keep it alive for one full week

This post isn't calling you a fuckwit but I'm typing it anyway

Reported :^)

This post brings literature into the equation. OP: check out The Mouse that Roared! No one reads it anymore, but (you) should.

doesnt the fact that its intentionally not about literature make it about literature?

user, I'm sorry to tell you, but announcing your intention is going to attract people who enjoy schadenfreude and will get this thread to die.

They could do this by posting until the thread limit is reached, then this thread will slide out of the catalogue

Ha, joke's on you because one meta thread is allowed.

Oh, and the thread limit is 300 posts, if I recall correctly.

Pretty sure its 300 atleast

If I create another meta-thread, which one will get removed?

Nice post friend :^)

Announcing a report is against the rules :^)

If we max this thread to bump limit it will die and he will not have been able to "keep it alive for one full week".

>>/reddit/

Traps are gay Traps are gay Traps are gay Traps are gay Traps are gay

mfw Jean Arthur will never be my gf. what a look! what a voice..
Alas.

I often feel like a mouse in a maze that is about to be decapitated.

That's because you're a cuck liberal leftist pleb.
You are the mouse, the glorious alt right is the lion.

Is there any literature about why jews are the true master race?

I want to truth pill my retarded alt right friends :3

Alternate title: The Wrath of Grapes

This thread could still be better than the endless pseudo-philosopihcal bullshit that seems to sprout everyday here.
I live in an old house with a big yard. I've lived here since I was a small kid and had no brothers or sisters. My brother is now 20 and my sister about to join college. When I was 7 or 8 years old, mice started comig into the house. They would come from under the garden door, or from a hole in the ceiling; and I could listen to them gnawing open the rice sacks in the kitchen at night. Once, out of curiosity, I waited awake in bed until I heard them, and went to the kitchen carefully. When I turned the light on I saw two little brown mice scurrying to the garden door. I told my parents, but they didn't believe me until they saw the holes in the grain sacks. Now, I liked mice because I watched Tom and Jerry and MouseHunt on tv, and to me they werethese cute inoffensive little creatures. But Dad hated them with a passion, and bought mousetraps one week and hid them under the kitchen cabinets. The first time I heard a trap pop it was in winter. I got myself out of bed despite the cold, and tiptoed to the kitchen. I was sure the mouse had been clever and stole the bait before the trap could do any harm. I was going to see him scurrying to the door again, with a smug little smile and a belly full of cheese, going to tell his tale to his little mouse friends, just like Fievel.
Under the cabinet was a mouse with his eyes popped out, twitching in pain. I was unsure how to make it die quicker, so I just crawled under my sheets again and cried myself quietly to sleep.

>The rat hurls itself against the glass cage as I move it from the kitchen into the living room. It refused to eat what was left of the other rat I had bought it to play with last week, that now lies dead, rotting in a corner of the cage. (For the last five days I’ve purposefully starved it.) I set the glass cage down next to the girl and maybe because of the scent of the cheese the rat seems to go insane, first running in circles, mewling, then trying to heave its body, weak with hunger, over the side of the cage. The rat doesn’t need any prodding and the bent coat hanger I was going to use remains untouched by my side and with the girl still conscious, the thing moves effortlessly on newfound energy, racing up the tube until half of its body disappears, and then after a minute—its rat body shaking while it feeds—all of it vanishes, except for the tail, and I yank the Habitrail tube out of the girl, trapping the rodent. Soon even the tail disappears. The noises the girl is making are, for the most part, incomprehensible.