The Rustle That Was Not A Ghost

A few nights ago I was sitting in the living room at some ungodly hour and I heard a rustle. It was as if a gentle breeze was occurring just in my kitchen causing the plastic on our bread to make a little noise. My heart started racing and I started to squint through the dark to see if I could see a man. I always think there’s a man in my house. That’s when I decided it must be a ghost. Probably the dead spirit of some wrangler who lived in this here brownstone back in 1883. He was probably friends with Ben Franklin and often made the trip by horse down to Philadelphia to hang with dear old Ben. I felt hungry all of a sudden and thought “asshole ghost, no ways am I going into my kitchen. I will die of hunger first. I see your game!” Twitter can vouch for this ghost story. I midnight tweeted about it.

Backtrack to last week. We keep our tortillas in a stupid place. In between the microwave and the toaster. I made a cheesy enchilada casserole last Monday and when I pulled out the tortillas there was a clearly ripped out hole in 4 of them. I thought “Someone was forceful in putting these behind the toaster, we should move these so they keep their structural integrity. I’ll just use these 4 in my casserole, save the others for tacos.”

Flash Forward to Saturday night. We have soft tacos. Again! They are ripped! Bryant says “is this odd to you?” I reply “yeah, they are getting torn up when we shove them right there.” Bryant “where are the pieces?” Me, “I don’t know, we must have thrown them out or something. I noticed it the other day” Bryant “That makes sense. Sorry, we’ll keep them on top of the refrigerator.”

So. Last night, I’m sitting in the living room again and I hear the rustle!!!! I start to panic because seriously?? Is that ghost really back to mess with me??? And then, a lightbulb goes off, the tortillas!!! A CREATURE! IT’S A CREATURE!

I frantically climb into bed, aware of the hour but disregarding it, “Bryant. I’m pretty sure there’s a mouse in our kitchen, and I think we ate what it ate.” Sleepy Bryant was not happy but he responded and inquired further. I said, “the rustle! It’s happening now. Go check.”

Bryant turned on the kitchen light and yells “Oh my god! There it is!!!” We saw it scurry behind the microwave. We freaked out. Yelled. Felt like puking because oh my yuck, the tortillas!!! Then we stared at the microwave from a 8 foot distance. Then, Bryant yells “Holy Shit! It’s coming back! He’s coming back!!!” I squeal. Then, we lose him. Don’t know where he went. All signs point to behind the oven.

We ate what a mouse ate and touched. We found mouse feces right next to our bag of coffee. Our dishes are on shelves displayed for a mouse to scurry past and touch with his mouse diseased fur.

I’m probably going to die now. The mouse disease is going to slowly take over and I’ll just drop dead. Until that happens I’m wearing my Hunter Boots at all times. Kinsey & I are not going in the kitchen. I will also starve before I eat something that’s been in that kitchen.

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Trackbacks

  1. […] the rustle that was not a ghost? The exterminator has now come twice. Plus, we have found a dead mouse, plus more droppings as if […]

  2. […] four times a day in my last trimester. The time I sprayed down my entire kitchen after we saw the mouse that was not a ghost. Or, the time that I realized if you dumped half the bottle in the bath tub with some hot water, it […]

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