Double Trouble
The right socks were gone, the
spatulas too. Something bit my finger under the sheets, and tripped me with
shoelaces when I went to the bathroom. The dog was upset, the lights started to
flicker. It had been a rough day all around.
The kids were telling us that they
found something weird. Two tiny holes in the walls of their room with bright
green hairs stuck to the edges. “It’s just a mouse, Dear” I said to console
her. “Mouses aren’t green, Mom.” The four year old had a point.
Then the clattering and shattering
of glass commenced from the dining room. We all rushed in, already guessing
what we’d see. My curio cabinet, which used to be filled with miniature forms
made of crystal, was a mess of jagged edges and iridescent shards. Tiny mirrors
of varying sizes were laid neatly in place, they looked untouched. But their
occupants all had been decimated; it looked like a battlefield.
That was it. I had had it. Mess with
my socks, give me a goose egg on my head, fine. But when you destroy the Swarovski
Crystal menagerie, it’s war.
We followed the scritching along
the baseboards then lured them out from a socket with marshmallows. They were
so cute and so happy we couldn’t bear to hurt them. So now, they are our new
pets, and we keep them in the garage.
