Here is a message I got from a friend:

When I was a kid I had a trick I played that got me so hot I would shake for a day. We had a heavy doormat on our front porch. On Sundays my mom would host the chruch social for the women and hold it at our house while my father met with the men at the church. We were Mormons and he was a ward leader. At any rate, each week I would take some of my pet mice, 3 or 4 of them, and put them under the heavy doormat. It wasn't heavy enough to hurt them, but it was heavy enough to keep them pinned in place under it. It had a rough fuzzy surface so it wasn't easy to see where the mice were from looking down on it...they were just slight little mounds in the mat..nothing that would attract attention. I would hide in the bushes at eye-level with the doormat and porch and watch the woman arrive. Many were young and very good looking and almost all wore heels. Often more than a dozen would come to our home. As each one arrived she would step onto the mat and wipe or grind the soles of her high-heeled shoes. Don't get me wrong. I like my pets and was attached to them. I was driven to do this by desires I didn't understand. I often wanted to save them at the last minute, but it was too late. There was nothing I could do but watch helplessly as my little friends were crushed to death. I can't even begin to tell you the heart-pounding sensation of watching a little mound, moving so slightly that only I could tell, disappear under the hard sole of a sexy woman's high heeled foot...and then to watch her stand there and grind down her weight. And when she stepped into the house, she left behing a totally flat place where a little mound had been moments before. Sometimes the lumps would get pressed under heels. Listening carefully I could usually hear the crunch of bones when that happened. Rarely there would be muffled squeels, but no one ever noticed over the chatting that usually went on among the woman as they arrived. After the women had come and gone I would peel back the mat and see what had happened. It was always shocking. I once calculated that a woman would weigh about 1,000 times more than a mouse. That would be like a man getting crushed by the weight of 10 big elephants. No wonder that many of my little friends now had bodies that were two-dimensional. Their insides were often smushed out for a long distance from their bodies. Eyes were commonly popped from the skulls. I remember one mouse whose head was unharmed, but whose body was utterly flat. He looked like a tiny mouse version of a bearskin rug with head attached. Others were nothing but grease. You couldn't even tell what they had once been. Many had their insides squished out their mouths and butts. And, most amazingly, once in a great while one survived the comings and goings of all the women. I was often so happy to have my pet back that I thought I must have been insane to have lost the others. But come next Sunday I would usualy be driven to place the one who lived right in the center of the mat for another go. My mom thought that I was such a good boy...always helping sweep up after and cleaning off the porch and making sure that the welcome mat was clean. But I went through so many of my little friends that I had to tell the pet shop owner that I was feeding them to 3 boas I said I owned. I hope that someday I am reincarnated as one of those little mice. God, what a dream come true that would be and what a way to go!

Mr. Ree