Several days, and many, many more rodents later, I became curious just where
on earth Millie was finding all these prime gray-furred specimens of the order
rodentia, species mus musculus. (Mus musculus – that's Latin for mouse.)
So one day, I let Mil out, then slipped on my hiking sneakers – the soft and
quiet ones – and followed her.
I followed her all the way up to the Starosselski's big wooden barn, where she
went in, climbed a ladder up to the loft, and disappeared behind an old moldy
bale of hay.
'Duh,' I thought to myself. 'I should have realized that the prime place for mice
is a barn. Anybody knows that!'
I had never been inside the Starosselski's barn before, only seen it from the
outside. They didn't have any animals, just lots of moldy hay bales, piles of junk,
an antique car sitting in a corner, and plenty of cobwebs.
I crossed the floor carefully, stepping over and around the mingled piles of junk
and hay, tripping only once over what looked like a lawn mower from about fifty
years ago. Clouds of dust rose around me as I walked, and swirled in the
streams of sunlight filtering in through cracks in the walls.
I reached the ladder without tripping over anything else, and climbed carefully
up. It looked – and sounded – pretty decrepit…just like everything else in there.
When I reached the top, I paused and looked around to see where Millie had got
to. The loft was really pretty cool: it stretched from one side of the front door, all
the way around the wall, over the back door, and ended on the other side of the
front door, forming a sort of squared-off horseshoe shape.
As I looked to my left, toward the back end of the loft, I caught sight of Millie's
tail as it disappeared to the right around yet another hay bale. (The loft was filled
them, almost like a big, dried-up hedge maze.) I started sneaking off after Millie,
trying hard to be quiet so I wouldn't scare off the mice. (I really wanted to see
one – one that had not had the infamous Millie Treatment that always made Dad
so sick.)
I walked up to the hay bale where she had disappeared, turned right, turned
left, and looked for her again. This time I saw her, way up at the end of a kind of
tunnel with hay walls, turn left, heading across the part of the loft over the back
door. I hurried quietly after her, the sound of softly rustling hay coming from
under my feet as I moved. I reached the end of the passage and turned left, just
in time to see Mil turn left again at the end of another long hay tunnel, this time
heading for the farthest point of the horseshoe, back towards the front door.
'Where is she going?' I wondered. 'Does she really have to be in just the
perfect, pre-selected spot to hunt mice?'
Apparently she did, because she seemed to have the route to 'the perfect spot'
down pat. So I turned left at the end of the tunnel, and followed the gently
waving gray tail towards the front of the barn, then right, then left again, and I
walked until I ran up against a solid hay wall, about eight feet high, while she
slipped through a tiny cat-size hole to whatever was beyond. (I assumed more
hay.)
'Well,' I asked myself, 'Now what? I obviously can't fit through there, so I guess
I'll have to go back out to the path, and find another way in.'
So I turned around and walked back out, turning to head again for the front of
the barn. After a few yards I turned to the right, and came to a hay wall maybe
six feet high, the top just a few inches above my head. This had to be the space
where Millie was.
I stood on my toes, trying to peer over the top, but I couldn't quite see. I'd just
get another bale to stand on. I turned around to grab a bale from behind me, but
I heard a strange noise from 'Millie's room' and turned back around to figure out
what it was, but it had stopped.
I quickly turned around, grabbed the bale of hay, dragged it over to the spot I'd
been standing, and stepped up. I started to raise my head slowly over the top of
the wall, but then I heard the noise again, and ducked back down. It sounded
like a human voice!
Then I realized the Starosselskis must be in the barn – after all, it was their
barn. But I listened for another few seconds, and realized the voice was much to
deep to be one of the Starosselskis – they were old folks, with high-pitched
voices. Then who, if not them, was in their barn, presumably unknown to them?
Well, maybe I could find out. I sat down on my bale to listen to the voice, which
was still speaking, but hay was apparently a very good sound barrier, because I
couldn't make out a single word. So I stood up and walked back around to
Millie's hole, pressed my ear to it, and listened there.
It was a deep voice, obviously a man's voice.
"It's about time you showed up, Theodore," it was saying. "You always come
crawling out of the woodwork at the worst possible times. Can't you go make
trouble for somebody else for a change?" The man had an accent, but it didn't
sound like a pure accent to me. It was a strange cross between a Scottish
brogue and the standard north-eastern English that I spoke. I frowned and
continued to listen.
"Why should I?" a second voice replied to the first one. This voice was also
male and slightly higher, although not by much, and had a bit of a southern
drawl to it. "You give me all the fun I need."
"What's fun about Snell?" demanded the first voice, the Scot. "If you're not here
to help me, which I have a feeling you aren't, begone."
"No, no," corrected the other man, "It's you that'll soon be gone. My mission
here is a little different than usual: I'm going to take on Snell myself - with your
help."
"What nonsense has got into you? You never help anyone, especially not me.
What do you think you will gain from this?"
"Everything," replied the southerner in a voice that sent chills down my spine.
"You and Snell in one visit…I'll never have made better use of my time! You see,
even though you may not think so, you're going to help me - just not in your
current form. You will be part of me, and together we will defeat Snell."
There was silence for a moment, until the first man spluttered, "Theodore, what
- no! What's possessed you? You can't"-
"Bah," broke in a scornful female voice. I started. I hadn't realized there was a
third person there, too. "Duncan, he's bluffing, and you know it. Don't let him pull
your strings. Look beyond your own little world for once, at least to the tip of your
own nose!"
"This isn't your issue," retorted the Scot. "And I'd thank you to keep your nose
where it belongs."
"It hasn't moved a hair out of line," sniffed the woman. "It's right where it
belongs, and that's looking after you. I shudder to think about the damage you'd
cause if left on your own. Honestly, why don't go get married and settle down
some place quiet?"
"Because my love life is none of your business," was the growled reply.
"What love life?" the woman taunted. "You mean your non-existent one?"
"Can we leave my love life, existent or otherwise, out of this?" the man asked in
a dangerous voice.
"Yes, really," the southerner broke in, "Don't provoke him. All you're doing is
making my job harder, and you wouldn't want to do that, would you?"
"Actually, I would."
"That wasn't my point."
"Then what was?" I heard an exasperated sigh.
"I should have learned by now not to give you the time of day - you're nothing
but contrary. In fact, maybe I'll leave Duncan for a moment and start with you…"
I heard a sudden flurry of movement, followed by a cat's hiss, which I guessed
belonged to Millie. What was she doing?
Turning, I tried to see through the hole I was listening at, but all that was in
view was a black-denim-clad leg. One of the men yelped, and as the leg
stumbled backwards towards my spyhole, I bolted upright and stumbled
backwards myself, tripping and nearly falling over. Catching my balance, I crept
over to the lower wall and stepped up onto the bale of hay I had dragged over
for a vantage point. As I started to stand up to see over the wall, I heard a
strange swishing noise, like metal sliding past metal, that ended in a ringing
sound, and the Scot saying, "Theo, why fight? You were never a hunter – why
start now? I don't want a bloodbath and I don't want your head, but if you force
me I will kill you."
"Now really," said the southerner in an oily voice, "What threats! I'm doing this
to help you in cause…you do want to defeat old Stephen, don't you?"
"The hell you are," sneered the woman. "Your motives are obvious, you slime-
covered hairball. Don't try the slick way out, because I'll never let you trick
Duncan, gullible as he sometimes is. You seem to have conveniently forgotten
that I am his protector."
"We don't have protectors," was the snapped reply. "It's illegal."
"Assigned protectors, no. But I am not assigned." I heard people moving about
slowly, too slowly to be pacing, and I wondered what was going on. Who were
these people making death threats? I was starting to get very nervous, and I
wondered for a moment if I should leave and call the police. But my curiosity
overcame that thought, so I stayed where I was.
on earth Millie was finding all these prime gray-furred specimens of the order
rodentia, species mus musculus. (Mus musculus – that's Latin for mouse.)
So one day, I let Mil out, then slipped on my hiking sneakers – the soft and
quiet ones – and followed her.
I followed her all the way up to the Starosselski's big wooden barn, where she
went in, climbed a ladder up to the loft, and disappeared behind an old moldy
bale of hay.
'Duh,' I thought to myself. 'I should have realized that the prime place for mice
is a barn. Anybody knows that!'
I had never been inside the Starosselski's barn before, only seen it from the
outside. They didn't have any animals, just lots of moldy hay bales, piles of junk,
an antique car sitting in a corner, and plenty of cobwebs.
I crossed the floor carefully, stepping over and around the mingled piles of junk
and hay, tripping only once over what looked like a lawn mower from about fifty
years ago. Clouds of dust rose around me as I walked, and swirled in the
streams of sunlight filtering in through cracks in the walls.
I reached the ladder without tripping over anything else, and climbed carefully
up. It looked – and sounded – pretty decrepit…just like everything else in there.
When I reached the top, I paused and looked around to see where Millie had got
to. The loft was really pretty cool: it stretched from one side of the front door, all
the way around the wall, over the back door, and ended on the other side of the
front door, forming a sort of squared-off horseshoe shape.
As I looked to my left, toward the back end of the loft, I caught sight of Millie's
tail as it disappeared to the right around yet another hay bale. (The loft was filled
them, almost like a big, dried-up hedge maze.) I started sneaking off after Millie,
trying hard to be quiet so I wouldn't scare off the mice. (I really wanted to see
one – one that had not had the infamous Millie Treatment that always made Dad
so sick.)
I walked up to the hay bale where she had disappeared, turned right, turned
left, and looked for her again. This time I saw her, way up at the end of a kind of
tunnel with hay walls, turn left, heading across the part of the loft over the back
door. I hurried quietly after her, the sound of softly rustling hay coming from
under my feet as I moved. I reached the end of the passage and turned left, just
in time to see Mil turn left again at the end of another long hay tunnel, this time
heading for the farthest point of the horseshoe, back towards the front door.
'Where is she going?' I wondered. 'Does she really have to be in just the
perfect, pre-selected spot to hunt mice?'
Apparently she did, because she seemed to have the route to 'the perfect spot'
down pat. So I turned left at the end of the tunnel, and followed the gently
waving gray tail towards the front of the barn, then right, then left again, and I
walked until I ran up against a solid hay wall, about eight feet high, while she
slipped through a tiny cat-size hole to whatever was beyond. (I assumed more
hay.)
'Well,' I asked myself, 'Now what? I obviously can't fit through there, so I guess
I'll have to go back out to the path, and find another way in.'
So I turned around and walked back out, turning to head again for the front of
the barn. After a few yards I turned to the right, and came to a hay wall maybe
six feet high, the top just a few inches above my head. This had to be the space
where Millie was.
I stood on my toes, trying to peer over the top, but I couldn't quite see. I'd just
get another bale to stand on. I turned around to grab a bale from behind me, but
I heard a strange noise from 'Millie's room' and turned back around to figure out
what it was, but it had stopped.
I quickly turned around, grabbed the bale of hay, dragged it over to the spot I'd
been standing, and stepped up. I started to raise my head slowly over the top of
the wall, but then I heard the noise again, and ducked back down. It sounded
like a human voice!
Then I realized the Starosselskis must be in the barn – after all, it was their
barn. But I listened for another few seconds, and realized the voice was much to
deep to be one of the Starosselskis – they were old folks, with high-pitched
voices. Then who, if not them, was in their barn, presumably unknown to them?
Well, maybe I could find out. I sat down on my bale to listen to the voice, which
was still speaking, but hay was apparently a very good sound barrier, because I
couldn't make out a single word. So I stood up and walked back around to
Millie's hole, pressed my ear to it, and listened there.
It was a deep voice, obviously a man's voice.
"It's about time you showed up, Theodore," it was saying. "You always come
crawling out of the woodwork at the worst possible times. Can't you go make
trouble for somebody else for a change?" The man had an accent, but it didn't
sound like a pure accent to me. It was a strange cross between a Scottish
brogue and the standard north-eastern English that I spoke. I frowned and
continued to listen.
"Why should I?" a second voice replied to the first one. This voice was also
male and slightly higher, although not by much, and had a bit of a southern
drawl to it. "You give me all the fun I need."
"What's fun about Snell?" demanded the first voice, the Scot. "If you're not here
to help me, which I have a feeling you aren't, begone."
"No, no," corrected the other man, "It's you that'll soon be gone. My mission
here is a little different than usual: I'm going to take on Snell myself - with your
help."
"What nonsense has got into you? You never help anyone, especially not me.
What do you think you will gain from this?"
"Everything," replied the southerner in a voice that sent chills down my spine.
"You and Snell in one visit…I'll never have made better use of my time! You see,
even though you may not think so, you're going to help me - just not in your
current form. You will be part of me, and together we will defeat Snell."
There was silence for a moment, until the first man spluttered, "Theodore, what
- no! What's possessed you? You can't"-
"Bah," broke in a scornful female voice. I started. I hadn't realized there was a
third person there, too. "Duncan, he's bluffing, and you know it. Don't let him pull
your strings. Look beyond your own little world for once, at least to the tip of your
own nose!"
"This isn't your issue," retorted the Scot. "And I'd thank you to keep your nose
where it belongs."
"It hasn't moved a hair out of line," sniffed the woman. "It's right where it
belongs, and that's looking after you. I shudder to think about the damage you'd
cause if left on your own. Honestly, why don't go get married and settle down
some place quiet?"
"Because my love life is none of your business," was the growled reply.
"What love life?" the woman taunted. "You mean your non-existent one?"
"Can we leave my love life, existent or otherwise, out of this?" the man asked in
a dangerous voice.
"Yes, really," the southerner broke in, "Don't provoke him. All you're doing is
making my job harder, and you wouldn't want to do that, would you?"
"Actually, I would."
"That wasn't my point."
"Then what was?" I heard an exasperated sigh.
"I should have learned by now not to give you the time of day - you're nothing
but contrary. In fact, maybe I'll leave Duncan for a moment and start with you…"
I heard a sudden flurry of movement, followed by a cat's hiss, which I guessed
belonged to Millie. What was she doing?
Turning, I tried to see through the hole I was listening at, but all that was in
view was a black-denim-clad leg. One of the men yelped, and as the leg
stumbled backwards towards my spyhole, I bolted upright and stumbled
backwards myself, tripping and nearly falling over. Catching my balance, I crept
over to the lower wall and stepped up onto the bale of hay I had dragged over
for a vantage point. As I started to stand up to see over the wall, I heard a
strange swishing noise, like metal sliding past metal, that ended in a ringing
sound, and the Scot saying, "Theo, why fight? You were never a hunter – why
start now? I don't want a bloodbath and I don't want your head, but if you force
me I will kill you."
"Now really," said the southerner in an oily voice, "What threats! I'm doing this
to help you in cause…you do want to defeat old Stephen, don't you?"
"The hell you are," sneered the woman. "Your motives are obvious, you slime-
covered hairball. Don't try the slick way out, because I'll never let you trick
Duncan, gullible as he sometimes is. You seem to have conveniently forgotten
that I am his protector."
"We don't have protectors," was the snapped reply. "It's illegal."
"Assigned protectors, no. But I am not assigned." I heard people moving about
slowly, too slowly to be pacing, and I wondered what was going on. Who were
these people making death threats? I was starting to get very nervous, and I
wondered for a moment if I should leave and call the police. But my curiosity
overcame that thought, so I stayed where I was.