Under Cans

I used to be afraid to strike, and trapped them under cans, whenever I could. Fast they furtively crawl towards their welcoming dark asylums; where they rest, thinking they've won. "Not for long!", I say, as I haul out my smashing clogs (two great big chunks of green neon rubber). Across the desk and down the wall.. KERPLACK!! Oh gross! Another fine mess to clean up.. Welp, one down. I hope the others have left the building.