14 August, 2009

the beast in the wall

several weeks ago i woke up to what sounded like a small saint bernard running around up in the attic. then nothing. i figured it was birds or stupid squirrels (how can anyone like that least charming of all rodents is beyond even my power of imagination) or something on the roof.

last weekend we had a friend stay in his sexy orange VW camper van in our driveway and as i was falling asleep i thought i heard him come in to use the facilities. after several minutes of strange scrambling noises and the occasional knock, i figured he might need some medical attention, or at least to be swiftly distracted from my minibar. i got up, wrapped myself in my increasingly threadbare pink robe and looked out. no antoine. but the mysterious noises continued. 

my next thought was that our tenants had somehow over the course of the weekend come into the (hopefully temporary) possession of a dog and it was in the hallway in some kind of kennel. i looked down: no dog. but the mysterious noises continued.

i self-medicated and went to sleep. fuck the wall beast, i had the folk fest to attend and needed to be rested.

last night i heard it again and called up our tenants to back me up. it is easy to start questioning one's grasp on reality when confronted with repeated scratchings in the wall. they heard it too. 

today the beast returned and i am contemplating murder. for a rodent (what else could it possibly be?) it is extremely loud, sounds like it's swinging from the electrical wires like some furry little tarzan with continuously growing incisors, and refuses to be frightened of the sustained banging i keep administering to the wall.

knowing myself, if it eats its way through the wall and ends up in either my spare room closet or the backstairs one, i will chase it and beat it to a pulp with my bare hands. 

no, i do not like squirrels.

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