He sat at the kitchen table and watched mice congregate in the corner. Two of them, discussing mortgages, stocks, bonds. Holding drinks with umbrellas in them. Munching on some kind of smelly foreign cheese. Laughing all the way to the bank.

The old man had seen these types before. Usually they were wise old rats. However, the masters of the universe seemed to be getting younger and younger. The mice used to be low on the totem pole; now days they were c.e.o’s, presidents of large corporations, v.p.’s holding down forts from satellite offices. All in tip top shape.

Drinking coffee, he saw the two high five each other. He knew his days were numbered. Just like the rest of the old timers, he would be tossed aside. His days of advancement over. It was time to call the exterminator.