Originally Posted by Pedestrian

When I was twelve, I forced my friend to join me at the recycling depot against her will so we could make petty change from the collection of beer bottles my alcoholic aunt had left with us over the summer. I had carelessly been passing bottles to her as I sorted, begrudging the heat of the day and stickiness of the brew, and a bottle happened to slip my hand and explode on the tailgate of my mother's truck. A thick, brownish gray substance spattered across my friend's dismayed face, leaving a trail of fluid from her arm to her open mouth. Upon closer inspection, we discovered partially decomposed fur in the remainder of the bottle. A mouse had crawled inside it to die. We made eighty dollars that day.