The exercise:
Write about a: victory.
After a week and a half of nightly attempts, last night I finally trapped the rat that had decided to share our home with us.
Now I can maybe focus on other things again. Like possibly attempting to catch up on comments...
3 comments:
Ah, I knew there was a connecting theme to your posts last week! I don't think I'd have guessed you were moonlighting as a rat-catcher though... well done on catching it and being rid of it, and I hope it was a solitary animal and you have no more problems now.
Victory
Bertram, an accountant by trade and nature, walked into Dr. Hoffman's study with a certain amount of caution. He liked Dr. Hoffman, a middle-aged man who had never married and considered himself devoted to the natural sciences, but his years of friendship and accountancy for the man had made him very aware that the good doctor's views on health and safety protocols were a little bit insufficient. He looked around, and deciding that the benches, apparatuses and furniture appeared to be in much the same place as last time he was here, set his hat on the hatstand.
"Ah Tim!" Dr Hoffman was sounding jovial but was concealed somewhere behind a painted wooden trifold screen, the kind of thing that Bertram would have expected his wife to change for bed behind. "Glad you could make it!"
"It's Bertram," said Bertram. He shuffled his feet, a little uncomfortably and eyed his hat wondering if he should retrieve it already and leave.
"Ah, Bertram!" Dr Hoffman sounded no less delighted. "What excellent timing, man! I'm expecting Tim as well, but you can see my rat-trap!"
"Is that modern slang?" asked Bertram, his hand reaching for his hat. He had, naturally, spent time undressed with other men of similar age as himself when changing for sports, but Dr Hoffman's study did not seem quite the right place for that.
"Not at all," said Dr Hoffman appearing from behind the screen. To Bertram's relief he was properly dressed, in a neat grey three-piece suit, a white shirt and navy-blue tie with a Windsor knot, and a white lab-coat hanging open over the whole affair. "I have a rat problem, or rather, I will have had a rat problem! It's been in here for about two weeks now, moving things around, and breaking apparatuses and lowering the temperature."
"That doesn't sound like a rat," said Bertram. He looked around him. "I mean, they might break things, but how could a rat move anything in here? Maybe a glass retort or so, but everything else is very heavy."
"It's a big rat," said Dr Hoffman, his eyes twinkling. "I measured the tracks it left, and they were strange ones. I'm pretty sure this is going to be worth studying when I catch it."
"And exhibiting after that," said a deep voice behind Bertram. He jumped and only turned when he'd placed his hand over his heart to check it was still beating. A tall man with dark hair and brown eyes that felt like they were looking straight through him was gazing at him. After a moment he offered his hand, a swarthy brown palm and very hairy wrist. "Tim Beacon. I own Beacon's World of Atrocities, and if this rat is what Dr Hoffman tells me it is, it'll be the world's largest rat! People will pay good money to see that."
"Only after the scientific world has understood it," said Dr. Hoffman quickly. "A rat that size will be a scientific marvel."
There was a crunching sound from behind the screen and all three men swivelled to look at it.
"What was that?" asked Bertram, his nerves returning in triplicate and making his voice waver.
"That was the trap," said Dr. Hoffman. "I think we've caught our rat. And I haven't even had the opportunity to show you how clever it is."
Tim strode to the screen and pulled it aside, and behind him Dr. Hoffman looked annoyed and clearly wanted to pull Tim aside. Behind the screen was an elaborate contraption the size of a cow, made of brass and tin and amber by Bertram's estimation. It had circles and helices and spikes in places, and there was a ratchet mechanism that appeared disconnected from everything else, and there was a large rasher of bacon sat on a white china plate next to it. Caught inside it was an ice-rimed half-human thing. Its face was smooth except for a nose and a single eye; no mouth, no eyebrows, no hair, just an egg-like smoothness everywhere else. It was long and stretched and thin and its hands were bifurcated down the middle. It writhed and twisted but the trap, as cleverly built as only Dr. Hoffman could manage, held it firm.
"That's an Ilmatu," said Bertram, feeling faint. "That's not a rat."
"Victory!" exclaimed Dr. Hoffman, and Tim echoed his words.
Greg - thanks.
Actual conversation I had with Kat the night I caught it:
M - I'm leaving the traps set for tonight, in case it had friends.
K - friends?
M - more than one of them. Babies or whatever.
K - ugh. Did it look post-partum?
M, after considering my choice between a joke and a divorce - Well, it was driving a mini-van, soooo...
Anyway, I felt like I had to respect the fact that she went for a joke first by responding with a joke myself, so divorce proceedings were safely avoided.
I will admit that I did not expect that to be what the trap captured. I should have clued in with the temperature lowering detail, but I did not.
Also: I'm quite certain that I don't want to know what they plan on doing with a captured Ilmatu.
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