Jerry’s Tale

I’ve been hesitant to post things from my writing classes because, when submitting for publication, most places require that it hasn’t been previously published and that includes personal blogs. Well, since I haven’t submitted anything for publication recently, I decided I should quit holding back “just in case.” Without further adieu, I bring you “Jerry’s Tale” which is intentionally in second person.

You’re a fairly clean person. No, your car’s not the cleanest. Nor is your house. But you bathe regularly, keep laundry washed, and the kitchen is (mostly) clean. If you were to ever have a pest problem, it would definitely be in the house, right?

Of course not. That would be entirely too easy to deal with. Instead, you’ll be sitting in the garage in your car, checking Facebook and waiting on your darling daughter to hurry up so you’re not late to work (again) and something will streak by.

What. The hell. Was that?? Oh. My. God. There’s a mouse. In your car.

In a flash, you’re out of the car. Garage door open. All car doors open. Searching for something to beat the hell out of whatever happens to come out of hiding. There! Golf clubs that were bought at a church yard sale Lord only knows how long ago! You proceed to beat around the floorboards, hoping beyond hope that the mouse was smart enough to get out while he could.

The drive to work is interesting, to say the least. You’ll constantly remind yourself that if “Jerry” decides to make an appearance: Don’t. Freak. You really don’t want to be a part of the morning traffic report. Jerry is probably just as freaked out as you and he’s not actually coming after you. He’s just doing his little scampering mouse thing.

That doesn’t work and you’ll still jump at practically everything. You make it to work in one piece and decide that, if Jerry’s still there, hopefully he’ll be smart and vacate while downtown. You decide that it might be time to (completely and utterly) clean out your car.

A couple days later, at church on a Wednesday night, you’ll be talking with friends and mention the mouse living in your car. Your husband will insist, “There’s NOT a mouse living in your car. Don’t be ridiculous.”

As you and Daughter are about to get in the car to leave, you both see something streak by the window INSIDE the car. Daughter is lucky. She’s able to say, “Nope!” and ride home with Daddy. He’ll hear the commotion and walk over to see what’s going on which gives you the opportunity to let him know you weren’t being ridiculous after all as you shout across the lot, “Hey hon! You know that mouse that’s NOT living in my car?”

Does he offer to drive your car home for you? Of course not. You really can’t blame him though – YOU don’t want to drive it either, after all. And you thought the drive to work was nerve wracking…

A day or so later and your car is cleaned out and vacuumed. You’ve made it as inhospitable and boring to a mouse as you possibly can and now it’s time to wait. And wait.

It’s been several months now and you’ve still seen no signs of Jerry. It’s a rather anticlimactic end to the story, but oddly, you’re okay with that.