Creature Comforts

als de kat van huis is, dansen de muizen op tafel

Brad Price looked up at the stars in awe for several minutes before growing bored with their beauty. He rose from his poolside chair, bid his wife adieu, and started for the house to watch The Big Bang Theory.

“Is it so bad to sit out here beneath these beautiful stars and have a conversation with your wife?” said Beth. “Can you at least grab me another glass of wine before you fall asleep in your chair?”

“I just want to go watch my programs. Why do we have to go through this every night?” said Brad.

“Fine, I’ll just go get it myself.”

“No, give me your glass. Is there already a bottle opened?”

“It’s on the counter.”

Brad took his wife’s glass and went inside, leaving the kitchen door ajar. While pouring the wine, he thought he heard his wife come in. He was annoyed; if she was going to come inside anyway, why was he getting her a glass of wine?—this was already cutting into his Big Bang time. But when he turned around, there was nobody there. He shrugged, finished pouring the glass of wine, and brought it to his stargazing wife.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Yep,” said Brad, returning inside and shutting the door behind him.

He opened a new bag of candy and took out a piece, then went to the living room, where he sat down in his recliner. Pulling his favorite blanket over himself, he flipped on the TV. It was already a few minutes into the episode, but he’d seen them all a thousand times, more or less, so he sat back and unwrapped the foil from around the piece of candy and popped it into his mouth.

It wasn’t long before he heard the rustling of the plastic on his bag of sweets. He turned up the TV and shouted, “Don’t you have your own candy?”

The sound coming from the kitchen stopped, but Beth didn’t reply.

“Did you order more?” he said. “I’m becoming addicted to those candies.”

Beth was silent.

He continued, “Are you mad at me? You know I like to relax in front of the TV at night.”

Silence. Then, the rustling began again.

He wanted to watch his show, and was that too much to ask for? After all, he worked hard all day to pay for her wine and this fine home. In a huff, he threw the cozy blanket off his lap and stood up to ask his wife not to eat his candy—they were his treats, not hers. She had her own fancy chocolates in the cabinet.

“Beth, I told you—”

But there at the kitchen table was not his wife but a rat the size of a terrier. Its beady black eyes stared at Brad with indifference, and for a moment—just a single moment—Brad saw his own face reflected off those glossy black discs. So this is what I look like when I’m scared, he thought.

The rat licked its thin fingers, stopping momentarily to scratch its side with long pink toes. Beside it was the empty candy bag, glistening with rat saliva.

He’d never seen a rodent so large; it didn’t seem normal. This must be an imported rat, he thought.

When the rat had finished cleaning itself, it walked the length of the table, its bulbous testicles dragging behind it like a sack of lemons.

“Shoo! Go—get out!” he yelled.

But the rat paid no mind. Its nose, working hard, was pointed directly at Brad, who slowly circled the table in an attempt to open the glass door.

“If she cleaned up more,” Brad said to himself, “instead of looking at the stars, maybe we wouldn’t have rats.” He moved the piece of candy from one side of his mouth to the other. He just wanted to be cozy, watch Big Bang, and eat his—

But before he could finish his thought, the rat lunged at him, its square buckteeth gnawing at his cheek.

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Beth looked up at the stars. She could hear the sound of another episode of Big Bang playing from within the house. “Why does he insist on having the volume up so loud on that thing?” she said to herself. She sipped her wine and looked for Venus.

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