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He got the call in the late afternoon, a last minute dispatch to one of the more wooded suburbs clinging to the fringe of the greater metropolitan area, and he knew only too well the lowly vermin that roamed the terrain out there behaving as if in fact they lorded over those wild hinterlands.
It would be his pleasure to prove one of them gravely wrong, point out its trespasses, and then remove its filthy presence from this earthly existence.
His marketing material clearly boasted:
We rid you of all pests big & small, short & tall, two-clawed & four-pawed, bats rats & skrats, squirrels possums & birds. If God created it then we can eradicate it. No questions asked – Performance guaranteed!
He pulled up to the curb and approached the front porch confident and decked out in full regalia.
She was already there, waiting, exasperated with hands on hips.
“What kind of pestilence do we have here, mam?” he inquired in his practiced professional voice.
“Go see for yourself... he’s upstairs in the corner bedroom.”
Good God, the man thought, it’s big enough for her to know its sex... I hope this aint mating season.
As he approached the door he could sense the thing’s presence, an uncanny ability to innately feel such things an inevitable result of his seventeen months on the job, and he could certainly smell it. Cautiously he wrapped the goggles around his head and applied the oxygen mask. Thick gloves were already in place along with the steel-brush kneepads and the fang-proof vest.
He turned the door knob very slowly and carefully pushed open the door. The jamb creaked like an old toad yodeling to a long lost lover sending a warning signal to the creature and the man cursed.
Folks, is it too much to ask to keep your doors greased in the event services such as mine are required? Because they will be... eventually.
He didn’t see anything at first but spotted its tangled nest resting between two pillows placed upon an unmade bed. He looked up at the ceiling and saw nothing out of the ordinary. He scanned all four corners running his eyes along the floorboards and used a long metal prod to check underneath discarded clothing and mildewed towels.
Still, nothing.
“You see anything yet?” the woman asked from below.
“No, not yet, still looking,” he replied after yanking off the mask. He didn’t appreciate such intrusions while he worked.
“What’s wrong with you sonny, he’s right there in front of you! Open yer eyes fer cryin out loud!”
Out of the corner of his eye he detected movement.
Toward the very end of the bed, beneath the covers.
He saw it again... a pensive wiggling, the very slightest of palpitations. The sly varmint had slithered its way down to the foot of the bed in a futile attempt to escape both his attention and his resulting measured wrath.
“I do believe I’ve located your intruder,” he bellowed in self-satisfaction.
“It’s about time,” was all the insolent woman could manage.
What to do next?
He had a mental checklist that he always followed at such times and at the top of the list was use any available source of containment in an effort to take the creature alive. That was his moral obligation, he supposed, yet it was amazing how quickly he could slide down that list to number ten: kill the fucker! He wondered if he might simply use the available bed coverings like a sack at the end of a hobo’s pole and entrap the creature within said material. Surely its fangs and claws would be capable of ripping right through but of course that is where his gloves and vest entered the equation.
Before he could decide upon an appropriate course of action there came a loud burgeoning noise from beneath those sheets that rattled the tangled nest, that shook the four walls, followed by a diffusive foul stench that had the man reaching for his mask.
The nature of the cloistered beast had finally been revealed.
Man, lazy obese son, living off mother, sponging from society, indifferent contributor to the Greater Bad, sequestered in bed and resistant to all beseechings, pleadings and violent threats, unreachable, irremovable, and utterly devoid of conscience.
Spoiled.
Rotten.
Man.
< ooh, dat smell so bad says the little unnamed Asian man lurking inside your head >
He descended the stairs but couldn’t look her in the eye.
“Mam, you don’t need me and you don’t need Animal Welfare. What you need is a priest well-versed in the rite of exorcism sporting one big-ass shiny cross.”
Performance guarantee be damned.
It would be his pleasure to prove one of them gravely wrong, point out its trespasses, and then remove its filthy presence from this earthly existence.
His marketing material clearly boasted:
We rid you of all pests big & small, short & tall, two-clawed & four-pawed, bats rats & skrats, squirrels possums & birds. If God created it then we can eradicate it. No questions asked – Performance guaranteed!
He pulled up to the curb and approached the front porch confident and decked out in full regalia.
She was already there, waiting, exasperated with hands on hips.
“What kind of pestilence do we have here, mam?” he inquired in his practiced professional voice.
“Go see for yourself... he’s upstairs in the corner bedroom.”
Good God, the man thought, it’s big enough for her to know its sex... I hope this aint mating season.
As he approached the door he could sense the thing’s presence, an uncanny ability to innately feel such things an inevitable result of his seventeen months on the job, and he could certainly smell it. Cautiously he wrapped the goggles around his head and applied the oxygen mask. Thick gloves were already in place along with the steel-brush kneepads and the fang-proof vest.
He turned the door knob very slowly and carefully pushed open the door. The jamb creaked like an old toad yodeling to a long lost lover sending a warning signal to the creature and the man cursed.
Folks, is it too much to ask to keep your doors greased in the event services such as mine are required? Because they will be... eventually.
He didn’t see anything at first but spotted its tangled nest resting between two pillows placed upon an unmade bed. He looked up at the ceiling and saw nothing out of the ordinary. He scanned all four corners running his eyes along the floorboards and used a long metal prod to check underneath discarded clothing and mildewed towels.
Still, nothing.
“You see anything yet?” the woman asked from below.
“No, not yet, still looking,” he replied after yanking off the mask. He didn’t appreciate such intrusions while he worked.
“What’s wrong with you sonny, he’s right there in front of you! Open yer eyes fer cryin out loud!”
Out of the corner of his eye he detected movement.
Toward the very end of the bed, beneath the covers.
He saw it again... a pensive wiggling, the very slightest of palpitations. The sly varmint had slithered its way down to the foot of the bed in a futile attempt to escape both his attention and his resulting measured wrath.
“I do believe I’ve located your intruder,” he bellowed in self-satisfaction.
“It’s about time,” was all the insolent woman could manage.
What to do next?
He had a mental checklist that he always followed at such times and at the top of the list was use any available source of containment in an effort to take the creature alive. That was his moral obligation, he supposed, yet it was amazing how quickly he could slide down that list to number ten: kill the fucker! He wondered if he might simply use the available bed coverings like a sack at the end of a hobo’s pole and entrap the creature within said material. Surely its fangs and claws would be capable of ripping right through but of course that is where his gloves and vest entered the equation.
Before he could decide upon an appropriate course of action there came a loud burgeoning noise from beneath those sheets that rattled the tangled nest, that shook the four walls, followed by a diffusive foul stench that had the man reaching for his mask.
The nature of the cloistered beast had finally been revealed.
Man, lazy obese son, living off mother, sponging from society, indifferent contributor to the Greater Bad, sequestered in bed and resistant to all beseechings, pleadings and violent threats, unreachable, irremovable, and utterly devoid of conscience.
Spoiled.
Rotten.
Man.
< ooh, dat smell so bad says the little unnamed Asian man lurking inside your head >
He descended the stairs but couldn’t look her in the eye.
“Mam, you don’t need me and you don’t need Animal Welfare. What you need is a priest well-versed in the rite of exorcism sporting one big-ass shiny cross.”
Performance guarantee be damned.
