[ CW ] TropeDay Prompt : Team Rocket Wins !

They say that revenge is a dish best served cold. 
 
 I say it's a dish best left uncooked. 
 
 My name is Tom. Now I do n't mean to bore you, but my life is pretty mundane. 
 
 Normal name? Check. 
 
 Quite a lazy guy? Check. 
 
 Not many ambitions? Checkmate. 
 
 My day's are spent lounging around the house. I nap a lot. I guess we all love a nap, but I've made it an art-form. I also love to drink milk. Ca n't get enough of the stuff. Sometimes I even spice it up and slip in a little whiskey, you know, behind the scenes. 
 
 But mostly my life is pretty normal. Sleeping, eating, sleeping some more. You get the drift. 
 
 Y'see, things did n't used to be like this. Things used to be so much more frustrating. So much more *difficult* 
 
 A little guy used to invade my house. Yeah, I know what you're thinking - rude huh? Every day this guy would sneak in. Any way he could, any nook or cranny. He'd sneak in to my house and eat my food. At first, I sort of shrugged it off. But it kept up, kept happening. So I could n't help it - I confronted him. 
 
 The little bastard just laughed. He had this chuckling, mocking kinda laugh for such a little fella. It bothered me. 
 
 Not sure how it started, but we ended up playing these games with each other. He'd sneak in and I'd track him down to confront him. Then he started leaving little devices, traps, distractions. Things got intense, sometimes. I really started to hate that little bastard. 
 
 I started trying all sorts of tricks. I barred the doors and he'd sneak past them, through little holes. I left traps for him but he'd spring them on purpose and leave me with that strange little laugh. I'd come up with elaborate schemes and he'd shrug'em off. 
 
 Then, as we got older, time took its toll on the little fella. He slowed down, got lazy. I was bigger than him, stronger too. It never used to matter when we both had energy. He'd been too fast, too smart. The little twerp. 
 
 But one day, when he was an older guy and his wits were slow, I'd seen him in my house again. He moved much slower, heard much less. He was creeping across the floor. Without giving it much thought, I pounced on him - expecting him to dart out the way and leave me with that damn laugh. 
 
 Nope. 
 
 He'd been crushed under me. His little body snapping under my weight. Shoulda laid off the milk. This little fucker, the source of my frustration for *years* was totally still, crumpled on the kitchen floor. I looked down and him and felt a wave of sadness just hit me like BANG. I prodded him a bit, hoping he'd be faking it like he had so many times. 
 
 Still nothing. 
 
 Tears welled up in my eyes and I had to turn away from that tiny, broken body. 
 
 That was a couple years ago. Like I said, life now is pretty easy. Sleep, milk, sleep, repeat. I've got it made here. Good house, good owners. 
 
 Everything a cat could want. 
 
 But sometimes, really late at night when I'm just nodding off to my eighth sleep of the day, I can hear a noise on the edge of my hearing. 
 
 Sounds kinda like a tiny little mouse, laughing at me. 

