It’s not that this is particularly horrible. It is, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a delicate assault on taste, not an in-your-face violation of both ethics and artistic sensibility. It’s that, for all her anthropomorphication, grandma mouse has no legs. She’s a mouseloaf, slice her up for cat sandwiches.
What’s worse than having an itch that you can’t scratch? Having no limbs and watching a bee crawl ever so slowly up your gingham blouse. You twitch your nose frantically, and your glasses almost fall off, but still, bee. But don’t blame the bee, it’s not really the bee’s fault.
You are, after all, covered in flowers. A bee’s going to get confused.
Goodwill on 1st and Slaughter, Austin