The
Ravens game played on mute from across the room. The replay displayed the
quarterback handing off the ball to his trusted running back as he was sacked
immediately. This pure act of destruction seemed to entertain Peepers as he
stood in the middle of the living room, his gape geared upwards towards the
screen. Winkz and Toosie squeaked out to him, but he didn’t hear them. He also
didn’t hear Miguel as he cocked his gun and fired a BB that shredded through
his tiny mouse body. The sound of the BB bouncing off the floor filled the roam
as the mice silently mourned their deaf friend from the safety of a toy
chest.
Miguel smirked as he rested his BB gun on the ledge of his makeshift hunter’s nest atop the couch, sturdy cardboard boxes and cushions supporting his short, slender frame. He tossed his brown bangs out of his face as he took a swig from a can of Natty Boh, the carbonation echoing in the back of his throat. He didn’t understand why people complained about working from home. You could really make it your own, like a game, he thought. It beat the unpredictability of the field.
~~~
It
was a fine modern home with a modern attached garage and a modern front door,
yet Miguel still found the suburbs weird. A sprinkler three houses down
startled him as it activated. The white man of that house looked at him and
waved, probably unagitated because he spotted Miguel’s uniform and chemical
filled backpack. It was clear why he was there. Miguel sighed as he knocked on
the door he was assigned to tap.
As he lifted his hand,
the door opened to reveal a busty woman in her mid-40s, her midriff showing
because she still had it like that. “Oh, wonderful you’re here.” She smiled
behind her custom Prada shades. For a second, Miguel wished he would have opted
to wear his Prada framed glasses to prove how wonderful the company’s insurance
was. “You can let yourself in, help yourself to a snack or two. I hate being in
the house while you do the treatment. The sound of the screams. Faint, but a
mother can hear anything.”
“Yeah, I can hear a lot
too. Must be a parent thing,” Miguel responded.
She looked down past her
shades at him, surprised. “Yes, it must be. Well anyway, I’m off.” As she
trotted to the garage, she paused. “And I already paid you, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. If there’s
anything extra, I’ll let you know.”
She raised her eyebrows
as if to say, I know you will. Miguel watched her drive off before he closed
the door. With most of the curtains drawn, natural light filled each room of
the first floor. Always choosing to be eccentric, he dropped to his knees and
began to crawl around to inspect for droppings, trails, easy to find holes
before he started spraying. When his sweep of the first floor was complete, he
began to spray and throw traps where they needed to be. The hissing of the hose
and flopping of the traps almost distracted him from a creaking sound
upstairs.
Jokingly
cursing his white mother, Miguel climbed the steps to the second floor as they
creaked under the weight of his equipment. Once he reached the landing,
he noticed a cracked door to his right with light spilling out. He didn’t
expect anyone else to be home. “Hello,” he called out. Perhaps the madam of the
house left this light on while she rushed to leave the house. She did mention
hating the sound.
When
he knocked, spray hose in the other hand, the door gave way easily. His eyes
followed the trail of light up to the bed where a man in his 20s laid in
nothing but Urban Outfitters socks, Andrew Christian underwear, and thin rimmed
glasses. His thick chest hair led down to a slightly bloated stomach that
contrasted his slim frame. He rested his head in his palm as he took Miguel in.
He smirked.
Miguel sighed. After assessing the situation, he asked, “Are those Prada?”
~~~
The front door opened as
Miguel took another shot at the mice. A BB whizzed past Winkz’ head as he
scuttled back to his hiding place. Karl shook the rain off his afro as he
entered. “Honey, I’m home.” He looked down at the floor and saw the crime
scene. “Oh for fucks sake, Miguel.”
“I was gonna clean it
up, but you didn’t call on your way back home.” Miguel tumbled down from his
perch and brushed the slaughter mouse up with the dustpan and broken broom he
kept by the foot of the couch. “See? Already gone, Holmes.”
“Mmhmm, there’s still
some evidence left at the scene, Watson.” Karl stepped over the mess as hung up
his raincoat. “Of course, the Ravens are losing. What else is new?”
Miguel turned his head.
“Actually, I made a house call the other day. An unexpected one.”
Karl pivoted. “What kind
of house call?”
“If I’m telling you, you
know exactly what kind.”
Karl nodded his head; he
knew but wished to confirm. “Well, you big slut. Good for you? How’d much you
make? What were they like?”
“He was fine,” Miguel
started to look at his partner. “I thought it was going to be his mom at first,
but she left in a hurry.”
“Wait, a mom pimped out
her son? Ugh, I love the suburbs.”
Miguel scoffed.
“Oh lighten up. You did
this every time you have a little adventure, even if it isn’t earning you money
on the side.”
“I just wonder what my
parents would say.”
Karl laughed. “Yeah, my
parents don’t need to know what I do between the sheets. They can stay ignorant.”
He paused but Miguel didn’t take the hint. With a playful slap on the arm, he
continued, “But you don’t have to. I’ve been home all of two minutes and you
haven’t asked me how my weekend was.”
Miguel apologized for
being so rude. “Sorry, the mice distracted me.”
“Yeah, whatever Elmer
Tom.” Karl snickered at himself. “Well, my weekend was great. Bobby was very
accommodating.”
“Ew, his name was
Bobby.”
“Listen, I can’t help
what names these white women give their sons.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Miguel
threw his swept up kill into the trash can. “Well, I might as well shower now.”
He removed his t-shirt. Sweat glistened off the small of his back.
Repositioning himself on
the couch, Karl called out to him. “You go do that, and my ass will be right up
behind you. Ol’ sexy lil thing.” Miguel flashed his winning smile as he climbed
the stairs. Karl, alone in the living room, turned off the television. In the
corner, Toosie squeaked at Winkz returned to him. “Ya’ll are disgusting,” he called out to the mice,
“but ya’ll sure are good for business.”
Word
~~
If you like what you read, please consider tipping the author.
No comments:
Post a Comment