Of Mice And Moths

The following is a re-enactment of last night’s events.

BEDROOM – LOFT – UPSTAIRS (MIDNIGHT)

A couple has just settled into bed and extinguished the lights. For a few moments all is silent. Sleep begins to fall over the couple. Suddenly, a barely perceptible yet intermittently repetitive sound comes from the ground floor studio.

JODY:
(starting onto her elbow, cocking her head, and whispering loudly)

I hear the mouse!  I hear the mouse chewing!

ANDREW

(barely conscious)

Wuzz…n.at?

JODY

(still whispering)

The mouse!  It’s in the studio.  Chewing on something.  I can hear it!

ANDREW

Hmm…mmm…mm.

Jody lies back.  Listens for a few moments.  Gets out of bed and stands at loft railing, listening intently to the sound coming from below.

JODY

(whispering vehemently)

It’s definitely coming from one of the studio tables.  That mouse better not be chewing up my @#%ing drawings!

ANDREW

Zzgg…ng…mmm.

JODY

I’m gonna go catch that little bastard in the act!

Moving quietly so as not to scare off the mouse Jody ninja-steps down the stairs, stealthily grabs a flashlight from under the kitchen sink, and slowly creeps towards the sound.

Standing silently, Jody realizes that the sound is not coming from the studio table.  Out of the corner of her eye, she detects a small movement at the window.  A moth.  It’s frantic, intermittent fluttering against the weather barrier covered window coincides with the strange sound.  In context the noise sounds exactly like a small object bouncing off taut plastic and not a rodent’s incisors gnawing on rag paper.

Smiling with relief, she approaches the moth, lifts the flashlight slightly and brings it down gently but firmly on the moth.

JODY

You may not be a mouse, but I have wool sweaters upstairs.

THE END