Monday, April 27, 2009

still wicked bored, gonna write a story

As Jane poured her coffee she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She knew she was alone in the house today. Roger had left for work and the kids were at school. Her cat Winston was staring at her from the window but that wasn't unusual. The feeling she had was. She sat at the table and muttered to herself, "I'm just being paranoid".

Her thoughts fell to the dream she had that night. She dreamt about a series of underground tunnels populated by rats. But not just any rats. These rats were industrious.  They had little houses, not nests. Towns with shops and cobbled streets. Rats and mice scurrying about. Not in any particular hurry, but rather, that's just what mice and rats did, scurry.  She recalled that the rats seemed to be in charge and the mice were merely servants. Size has it's advantages. A mean streak probably helps too.

She put the thought of slave mice to the side and continued reading the morning paper. Roger had removed the sports section and one the kids had dribbled milk below the comic strips. No matter, she was after the Lifestyle section anyway. As she scanned an article about the latest trends in high end dinnerware, the feeling of being watched returned. She listened intently as she glanced at the windows. Nothing. And there shouldn't be. She and her family lived at the end of a long driveway in a house nestled in the 30 acres of towering evergreens. No neighbour kids retrieving errant soccer balls, no-one to look in the front window as they passed on their morning powerwalk.

Her coffee finished, she returned to her bedroom to get dressed. Winston followed. It was one of his favourite games to rub on Jane's legs as she tried to get into her pantyhose.  Captain Rickle gave the all clear and the rat commandos rushed into the kitchen. Desperate for supplies, the rats had been driven to raiding above ground human swellings. Desperation did not mean foolishness. Scouts had watched the comings and goings of the house so they knew they only had a few minutes to accomplish their mission. Sentries were placed by the hall to warn the rest should Jane, or more importantly, Winston, leave the bedroom prematurely.

Working quickly they swiped the coffee mug and the spoon. They emptied the cat's food dish, stole the laces from three shoes. The Captain signaled to start the retreat. A commando spotted a pen on the floor on the far side of the kitchen. As the team gathered at the exit point, he raced for the pen.  The Captain was forced to stay quiet for fear of alerting the cat but he would surely reprimand this young commando. As valuable as a pen may be to their efforts, the risk was one they should be taking. With the pen, the brash young commando narrowly made through the kitty door with the rest of the group just as Jane and Winston emerged from the bedroom.


I'm out of time! Your turn! Go!

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