Pest Control


A clatter in the doorway behind me. I freeze, holding the orange juice in my mouth. Now that I have time to really examine the taste, there are subtle hints of the dish soap used to clean the glass.

I slowly turn my head almost all the way around, scanning the room. Nothing. My free hand reaches down my side and slides my pistol out of its holster. My eyes dart around the room as I hear another clatter.

Fucking mice.

A grey blur darts across the room. I spin, splashing orange juice on my face, and futilely empty a magazine across the floor, always half a second behind the speeding goddamn rodent.

“Jesus Christ!” Todd shouts, walking in from the other room holding his ears, “I was sleeping you asshole!”

“Sorry,” I say, relaxing and replacing the pistol, “I thought I saw a mouse.”

“Well did you get the bastard?” he yawns, scratching at his eyes.

“No,” I sigh, shaking my head.

“Of course not,” he groans, “Well who gives a rat’s ass? We’ll be out of here in two days anyway.”

I gasp. “You think they’re rats?”

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3 responses to “Pest Control”

  1. Katie says :

    Haha, is this non-fiction?

  2. Taylor says :

    You’d be surprised which parts of it are.

    • Emmett Stanley says :

      these are awesome, partially due to being so short. I just recently added this to my Google Reader, which I’m checking pretty regularly, so this is like getting a comic strip with my news, but in ultra short story form.

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