I Came Too Soon So I Came Back (Parts Being One)
The other night, you see, I am all of resting quietly in my bed (not even a sound, not even a...) and then there is this brief and small rustling, somewhere under the headboard (not that I have a headboard, I don't, I sleep on just matresses elevated on a platform of built wood but no headboard, just a general idea of where headboards usually are), and I am then slightly jarred awake and wondering. Ah, mouse, ah wee flickit timorous cowering beastie, and I am annoyed all brief and small and then back to those sweet dreams (you say, you say, you say, that you've got them -I say that you're a liar).
So the next morning, since I do not work until noon my roommates have long since fled to various work related locations by the time I stir, by the time I poke my head out of the door they are gone and the house is (as I always self-delusionally pretend anyway) all mine. I patter sock feet into the kitchen, I make myself a breakfast of rice and eggs and bits chopped up of meat and then a nice cool glass of apple juice, and then I pad back into my room to see (and the *gasp* is so soon coming here, reader) *GASP* the ass end of a big-ass rat that is turning v-errrr-rrr-y slowly around and waddling into the deep dark refuge of the underneath of my bed so I promptly and with great and loud elucidation shout an epithet and then promptly jump up and down on my bed and bang the walls a bit (In hopes of scaring the vermin into another lair, of course, but it does not work.). I lift up the matress with a whoosh. Whoosh! It is toppled over and rests on the wall. Then I lift up the boxpring, another whoosh, but it is smaller this time due to it not having the sheets and multiple layers of bedding the top part had. Whoosh! Then I lift up the thin board that reveals the bedframe (really only a boxspring stripped of fabric, a roughhewn pallet-looking construction with splintery slats) and the spaces in between boards and the floor, spaces that hold a thin smattering of light refuse (I admit it! Receipts, maybe a few. Perhaps a label from some knee-highs, perhaps a couple, several couples, of those blasted New Yorker subscription card inserts). The outer edges of the space feature some books stacked but slightly falling, a crooked line of shoes toppling a bit too, and then a few excess sheets folded but neatly. And then, of course, there is the rat, huddling itself inbetween the folded sheets and pillowcase, a large awful rat with its big rat ass (I have nothing against large asses, in case this seems I disapprove, it is just that rats should generally be starving, not so healthy that they sleep all sleek under beds with their wide rat hips and pink awful feet) sticking out while its awful rat head burrows gentle under the frame. Then I am perplexed only briefly at this rat thing under my bed but have the idea that maybe a broom, yes. So I retreat RETREAT! and put big black boots over my feet and grab the broom all stickly and then I return to my bed and my room and I poke the rat multiple times, also while swearing.
So what happens? The rat begrudgingly moves itself out from under my bed and then somehow collapses itself under the thin line that streaks under the door that devides my room and the bathroom. By the time sulky me makes my way to the door and opens it, tentative all like, the rat is long gone disappeared out somewhere in the house at large.
This is as always to be continued in some dramatic way.
So the next morning, since I do not work until noon my roommates have long since fled to various work related locations by the time I stir, by the time I poke my head out of the door they are gone and the house is (as I always self-delusionally pretend anyway) all mine. I patter sock feet into the kitchen, I make myself a breakfast of rice and eggs and bits chopped up of meat and then a nice cool glass of apple juice, and then I pad back into my room to see (and the *gasp* is so soon coming here, reader) *GASP* the ass end of a big-ass rat that is turning v-errrr-rrr-y slowly around and waddling into the deep dark refuge of the underneath of my bed so I promptly and with great and loud elucidation shout an epithet and then promptly jump up and down on my bed and bang the walls a bit (In hopes of scaring the vermin into another lair, of course, but it does not work.). I lift up the matress with a whoosh. Whoosh! It is toppled over and rests on the wall. Then I lift up the boxpring, another whoosh, but it is smaller this time due to it not having the sheets and multiple layers of bedding the top part had. Whoosh! Then I lift up the thin board that reveals the bedframe (really only a boxspring stripped of fabric, a roughhewn pallet-looking construction with splintery slats) and the spaces in between boards and the floor, spaces that hold a thin smattering of light refuse (I admit it! Receipts, maybe a few. Perhaps a label from some knee-highs, perhaps a couple, several couples, of those blasted New Yorker subscription card inserts). The outer edges of the space feature some books stacked but slightly falling, a crooked line of shoes toppling a bit too, and then a few excess sheets folded but neatly. And then, of course, there is the rat, huddling itself inbetween the folded sheets and pillowcase, a large awful rat with its big rat ass (I have nothing against large asses, in case this seems I disapprove, it is just that rats should generally be starving, not so healthy that they sleep all sleek under beds with their wide rat hips and pink awful feet) sticking out while its awful rat head burrows gentle under the frame. Then I am perplexed only briefly at this rat thing under my bed but have the idea that maybe a broom, yes. So I retreat RETREAT! and put big black boots over my feet and grab the broom all stickly and then I return to my bed and my room and I poke the rat multiple times, also while swearing.
So what happens? The rat begrudgingly moves itself out from under my bed and then somehow collapses itself under the thin line that streaks under the door that devides my room and the bathroom. By the time sulky me makes my way to the door and opens it, tentative all like, the rat is long gone disappeared out somewhere in the house at large.
This is as always to be continued in some dramatic way.