A good bedtime story
Hubby and I had just settled down for a good night’s rest when we were awakened by some eerie noises. Our conversation went something like this with me asking, “What’s making that squeaky noise?”
“I don’t know. Get up and check it out. Sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen. Maybe it’s a mouse.”
“A mouse! Good grief we haven’t had a mouse in the house for years. Maybe you better check it out!
“I’m too tired. Besides the kitchen’s your area.”
“My area! Well, if it’s my area, then why are you always in it?”
And so this delightful bantering continued between hubby and me until I finally rolled out of bed and checked out the scene. What did I find? Read on for my latest adventure.
There’s gotta be a mouse in the house
I cautiously entered the dark kitchen trying not to make a sound. Thankfully, a little moonlight illuminated the room, but I still couldn’t see or hear anything. Hm? What had made that screeching, scratchy sound? Maybe hubby was right and we did indeed have a mouse in the house.
I paused for a moment and then I heard it again. E-ee! E-ee! E-ee! A-r-r! Oh, my goodness, talk about giving a person the heebie-geebies. So, I immediately grabbed for my ever faithful weapon—the infamous slim line broom.
My family can relate tales of how this particular weapon in my hands has been known to scare away very large beasts (ton bulls) with a single swipe and a clunk to their heads. Never let it be said that we farm gals can’t defend ourselves. Who needs a gun, when you have a broom in your hand? Suffice it to say, that a broom in a farm woman’s hands is a dangerous weapon, but that’s a story for another time.
Anyway, the E-ee, E-ee, A-r-r sounds continued, until I tracked it down to one area of the kitchen. Ah, ha! The noises seemed to be coming from the small window located above our kitchen sink. At the time, I thought this was an odd place for a mouse to be, but maybe he was trying to claw his way out of the house through the screen. Whatever the situation, I cautiously crept upon the intruder, not even daring to breathe for fear of scaring it away. I had blood on my mind, and I was definitely going to get him no matter what it took!
Preparation is the key element
Since the noises were loud and frequent, I figured this had to be a rather large mouse. Thus, preparation became a key ingredient to annihilate the critter. I took a few moments to prepare myself for the kill. By rolling up the sleeves on my ratty house coat, firmly planting my bare feet on the kitchen floor, and quietly hoisting the broom weapon high over my head, I felt ready and eager for the attack. The adrenaline was pumping and I aimed for the window area with all my might.
Kerwack! I heard a loud crash and knew that my careful aim had hit something. Bravo! Onward and upward Janie girl! You got him! Here’s one for the Kipper!
With a flip of the light switch, I hurriedly searched the area for the varmint. I had visions of picking him up by the tail, tossing him outside, and hollering for the kittys to come and enjoy a treat.
Sadly, this was not the case. All I discovered was a broken bowl and a royal mess in my kitchen, but no blood and no dead carcass. I figured that the beast must have gotten away and then I heard it again. The E-eeee! E-eeee! E-eeee! A-r-r! sound.
One more time
I quickly spun around in the direction of the sound with the firm conviction that with the lights on, I would certainly get him this time. And then I discovered the true identity of the beast. Guess who it was?
Yup, it was me.
I was the beast who had forgotten to crank the window tightly shut and lock it before going to bed. Thus, with the wind blowing outside—well, the window was shutting and opening and shutting and opening and making these squeaky noises. The E-ee! E-ee! E-ee! sounds were the window opening and the A-r-r sound was the window shutting. Evidently, there was just enough suction from the outside to the inside of the house to make the window open and shut on its own.
Talk about feeling dumb about this whole episode! Yes! But what a hoot! I laughed all the way back to bed and giggled myself to sleep.
Jane Green and her husband, Jim, live near Clark. Contact Jane for some public speaking, to order one of her books, or to register your comments. E-mail her at: firstname.lastname@example.org.