mouse everest
wrapping the day up with late night emails i sense movement overhead, a scratching and a struggle. i look up and i swear-to-god there’s a mouse climbing the window curtain, way the fuck up there, near the ceiling, scrambling his skittery cuteness along the edge and vanishing onto the upper ledge. how does he do it? clutchy curly-fry toenails? and where is Sofi? ‘sick ’em, Sof!’ i yell. ‘get that motherfucker!’ which is two-faced for me who always feels Dali Lama sorry for the hard-as-a-rock dead thing left by my cat after she’s finished him off, no longer a toy to bat around. god knows where the thing went or if it is even actually up there. but it gives me the shivers. the fat lady with the rolled knee stockings is high on a chair, skirt in fist, faint from the sighting of the little bugger.
This is an excerpt from my book, The Paragraphs — Cutlass Press
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