coming to? He stood and tapped his index finger against his cheek trying to decide what he was in the mood for this morning. Um... he closed his eyes and pointed.

"Eny Meeny Miny Moe.... Catch a Minky by the toe... If it hollers can't let it go... Eny Meeny Miny Moe...." Tucci opened his eyes and smiled.

He reached up and began grabbing bottles and syringes and placing them into boxes. Insecticides. He smiled again... his favorite. They kind of did a little tap dance after getting a shot of this. He was glad his finger hadn't pointed at the gas tanks. He felt like a willing participant this morning, and the gas he attached to the engine of his tractor and channeled in their enclosures, took all the fun out of actually participating, since he was on one side, and they were on the other.

He heard that their eyes and lungs burned and that it was a painful death, but in a pinch, nothing was faster. If it were up to him, he'd just whack off their heads. But can't hurt that fur now can we? He closed the boxes and placed them on the back of his tractor. He lumbered into the driver's seat and started the engine.

He planned to sell the organic manure to some farmers for their fields and vineyards, and the protein-rich carcasses for compost or feed. He made sure he put everything to good use. “Here we go little buddies... Let's make it a good one...."