Chapter Four
Having the life-force sucked out of your body is quite painful. C.K. knew exactly how painful it was because he asked his tiny best friend about it. The decayed little mouse with the fossilized face gave C.K. a detailed description of the ancient ritual, using the Freidman’s (who live across the street) as an example.
MAHH-THAALAH
ZEEEHAH
“I’ll bet that must’ve been tiring, Mummy Mouse,” said C.K. “I mean, dragging yourself along on those rotted limbs of yours? I’d be exhausted, too!”
In a series of grunts and drawn out syllables, Mummy Mouse explained that although it took him a rather long time (being decayed and all), he managed to creep up the Friedman’s driveway, around the back of the house, and up the porch steps. Also how he was finally able to slip inside the house utilizing the tiny crack underneath the back door.
“I can’t believe you got past Snickers,” C.K. said, amazed that Mummy Mouse was able to avoid being seen by the Friedman’s psychotic tabby cat. Snickers got his nickname after a neighborhood kid threw his candy bar at him, to scare him away, then watched as the insane cat tore it to shreds before eating it, wrapper and all.
“Snickers hates mice!” C.K. told his best friend. “Actually, I think Snickers hates people too. But he especially hates mice. You’re lucky to be alive, Mummy Mouse.”
KAH
Mummy Mouse also explained (quietly, so Mr. Percy wouldn’t hear down the hall) that getting into the house was the easy part. It then took Mummy Mouse the better part of two hours to make his way through the house and up the stairs, using his decomposed nose and his overdeveloped sense of revenge to hone in on the two life-forces down the second floor hallway.
RAAK-PELHAHM
“I bet the Friedman’s would’ve been terrified if they saw you!” C.K. said excitedly. As he did each night, he got underneath the bed sheet, all comfy-cozy, and listened intently to Mummy Mouse’s every word. “Good thing I can’t see you, otherwise I might be scared of you too! So what happened next?”
AHHHHK KEHM, LAH-HAMMAL
“You crept right up onto their bed?” C.K. asked. “And then Mrs. Friedman woke up right before you sucked her life-force away?”
KAAAH-FEEE-JUH SHAAAH.
“You stood right on her pillow? Face to wrinkled face?” C.K. was hanging on every word. “Then you transfixed Mrs. Friedman so she had no choice but to stare into your hypnotic red eyes?”
HAAK
“Then you said the ancient chant?”
HAAK
“What did Mr. Friedman do while you were draining the life-force from his wife?” C.K. asked. “Surely someone who mows his lawn five times a week and waxes his car every other day pays excellent attention to detail?”
Mummy Mouse explained to his best friend that even though his wife’s life-force was being sucked away—a mere three feet away—Mr. Friedman, her husband of nearly thirty years, didn’t budge.
“He slept through the whole ritual?” said C.K. “Wow. They must have a strong marriage based on familiarity instead of communication. Too bad you didn’t get a two-for-one.”
As it turned out, this was the very reason why Mummy Mouse was so upset. He considered last night to be unproductive because he wasn’t able to suck the life-force of Mr. Friedman as well.
FAH-KLAAH, SHAH-REEEAAB
“You’re telling me, Mummy Mouse!” said C.K. “I would’ve been upset at the missed opportunity too. But that’s okay, Mummy Mouse. I still love you with all my heart.”
Mummy Mouse was done talking.
The night was getting on, and even though he thoroughly enjoyed recapping his tales of horror to his young blind friend, he really did have a quota to keep.
C.K. sat back against his cushy layer of pillows, thinking it over, picturing in his mind what it must’ve been like.
“I wonder if Mrs. Friedman led a very interesting life?” said C.K. “We’ve lived across from the Friedman’s my whole life, but we’ve never once gone over there to visit, or had them over for dinner. My parents believe in giving people their privacy.” Sadly, C.K. added, “If you hadn’t noticed, Mummy Mouse, my parents are kind of shut-ins.”
KIHN?
“Okay, they’re not kind of shut-ins,” said C.K. “They’re complete introverts. They just think that the outside world should stay that way, outside where it belongs. Back in ancient Egypt, you didn’t have things like the Internet, and home delivery. Nowadays people don’t need to communicate with other living beings. Besides, my parents believe that too much communication can be detrimental for a family, and also for society in general.”
Mummy Mouse was enjoying all the ear-scratching C.K. was giving him, even though his ears were dried up and brittle.
“I wonder if Mrs. Friedman will miss out on all the fun stuff in life?” C.K. couldn’t help but wonder. “Like getting unannounced visits from her relatives? Or composting? Or compulsive bingo?”
HU KAH
“Yes, I know, who cares,” said C.K. He had no idea if Mrs. Friedman even had annoying relatives, or a compost heap, or if she enjoyed compulsive bingo like most adults in her age bracket.
“Oh well,” said C.K. “I’m just glad that Mr. Friedman didn’t wake up in the middle of your ancient life-force-sucking ceremony, catch you, and then crush the life out of you with his bare hands. That would’ve made me very sad.”
Mummy Mouse began to wriggle in C.K.’s hands, letting his best friend know that he wanted to be put down.
“There you go, Mummy Mouse,” said C.K. “Do you need help getting down onto the—”
Plop!
There was a tiny, barely audible thump when Mummy Mouse hit the floor after attempting to climb down off the bed. One of his remaining claws broke loose (due to severe vitamin deficiency) and he slipped from the sheets and tumbled to the floor.
“Are you okay, Mummy Mouse?” C.K. asked. “Oh wait—never mind. I forgot that your central nervous system was destroyed by the poison, thereby inhibiting you from feeling any type of pain.”
SAHN-HAFAA-BEEESH.
“Okay, Mummy Mouse, see you tomorrow!” C.K. waited patiently as his tiny best friend slinked his way across the bedroom carpet and out the door.
Half an hour later, listening from his bedroom window, C.K. could just barely hear the sounds of Mummy Mouse’s tiny claws hitting the pavement as he dragged his corpse down the driveway. He didn’t quite know how to feel about his post-mortem BFF slowly making his way through the neighborhood, wreaking havoc amongst the rows of slumbering suburbanites.
Sticking his head out his bedroom window, C.K. whispered, “Bye, Mummy Mouse! I love you!” After a thoughtful pause, he added, “Won’t you please stop exterminating my neighbors? Now that I think about it, that really is unacceptable behavior for a mouse!”
PRAAAK HALAH!
GAHHHL- FLLINNNAAK!
“Yes, I know that technically you’re not exterminating people,” said C.K., understanding his homicidal pet mouse perfectly well. “I know that you’re simply sucking their will to live…but still!”
EE-YAAAK, VR-HUUMAH!
“Oh alright, Mummy mouse, if you must. But please don’t get run over by a car, okay?” Then he whispered, “Will I see you tomorrow?”
HAAK
“Okay, be safe!”
C.K. sat next to his bedroom window, a sad sight indeed. He listened to the sound of Mummy Mouse inching his way down the sidewalk until he was out of range. Then he shut the window and got into bed, pulling up the covers to get warm and toasty. C.K. didn’t know what else he could possibly do about Mummy Mouse’s criminal intentions.
Fortunately, C.K. was taught that getting a good night’s rest was the best way to forget about life’s little problems, so that’s exactly what he did. C.K. lay down on his pillows and fell into a peaceful slumber.
Come morning, the newspaper headline announced the grim reality:
THREE HUNDRED NEW CASES OF “MYSTERY ILLNESS” REPORT
ED