“Eeeeeekkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!”

I cringed, I swear I did.  That scream was unmistakable.  I knew ‘zactly what was coming next.  It was gonna be “George, get in this [name a room] right this minute, now, now, now!”

“George-get-in-this-kitchen-right-this-minute-now-Now-NOW!”

Yeah, I knew it, right down to the exact words. 

It was Livy’s ‘I’ve-just-seen-a-mouse-I-can’t-believe-it’s-in-the-house’ scream and command.  It’s utterly unmistakable.  The only thing that comes close is her “I’ve-just-seen-a-bug-I-can’t-believe-it’s-in-the-rug” scream and command. 

(Apologies to His Holiness, don’t mean to parody his lines.)

A mouse!  Damn.  Livy’s a grown woman, doesn’t she know how to pick up the phone and dial the exterminator?  She should be calm and collected about it, but no, she always has to scream and call me to come to the rescue.  Of course, I’m the man, I’ve gotta be big and brave and strong. 

Heh-heh.  Unfortunately, to tell the truth, I’m not all that fond of mice or bugs meself. 

They move too fast.  And they usually run AT me, not AWAY from me!  Can’t quite understand that meself, I’m a lot bigger than they are, why would they run AT something so much bigger and stronger than them?  Creepy crawly things, I just can’t stand ‘em.  But I dasn’t let Livy know that, either, she’d hold it over me head, she’s got no mercy at all.  Must be a woman thing, they all gotta dig at a flaw until they draw blood.

“GEORGE!!!!”

Damn.  That was the “you’d better get in here right this minute or else you’re going to be in BIG-BIG-BIG trouble” shriek.  I put on my brave face and headed for the kitchen.  (Sorry, Sir Paulie-who-probably-has-a-mouse-or-two-at-his-farmhouse this winter, don’t mean to be stealing your lines again, but they just happen t’ fit the occasion so well….).

“Yes, dear?” I asked as I came around the corner. 

She was standing on a chair, glaring at me.  That glare makes me wilt, it really does.  It’s a lethal weapon, and she knows just how to use it.  I tried to smile ingratiatingly as I took her hand to help her down. 

“Mouse?  Or bug?” I asked solicitously. 

I already knew, but it doesn’t pay to assume sometimes.

“It was a mouse!  A big one!” Livy cried, her glare darting about the kitchen (and thankfully, not leveled on me for the moment) whilst she dug her nails into me arm ‘til I thought I was going to bleed all over the new tile.  We’d just gotten it fixed from the unfortunate microwave-falling-off-the-counter incident, and I really didn’t want to christen it with my blood.  Not again, anyway!

“A rat then?” I asked, trying to sound interested and calm.  Manly.

I wasn’t calm.  I was about to have a case of the heebie jeebies.  I was praying it wasn’t a rat.  Rats are about ten times bigger than mice and about ten times scarier.  I really hate rats, they just make my skin crawl to even think about them.  Prayed we didn’t have a rat in the house.  I’d have to suggest taking a holiday whilst it was being taken care of.  Maybe a trip to Hawaii or off to Oz again.  Didn’t think I could live in the house if I knew there was rat in residence.

“Was its tail all naked?” I added when she didn’t answer.

That’s the deciding factor, a naked tail.  Disgusting, really, hanging out there all naked and hairless like that.  They’re disgusting creatures, please God, don’t let it be a rat.

“I don’t think so, but it must have been a foot long, really!” Livy chattered, still gripping my arm. 

My fingers were starting to grow numb ‘cause she was cutting off the blood supply to ‘em, but I didn’t dare shake her off.  Did that once years ago and she was miffed for weeks, and the only thing worse than having her know about my fear of crawly things would be having her miffed at me.  She can do a ‘miff’ like no other woman in the world, I swear, she’s got it down to a precision and iciness that you wouldn’t believe.  Freezes the hair off my arms just crawling into bed beside her at night when she’s in full force.  Started to shiver just thinking about it, didn’t want to be on the receiving end of another ‘miff,’ so I just gritted me chattering teeth tight and prayed she’d let go soon.

“A foot long, dear, yeah?” I asked. 

Somehow kept a straight face.  She’s got exaggeration down to a science, too.  ‘A foot long’ translates to either ‘a few centimeters’ or ‘a full meter,’ could go either way.  You know that women don’t know inches from centimeters!  Good thing, that. 

For men, I mean!

She nodded excitedly, and I patted her arm gently, trying not to grimace from the nails-digging-in-thing that was going on.  Wondered if I’d be able to use me arm again after this?  It’s a bad thing for a guitarist to have a bum arm, and worse if his mates find out it happened ‘cause the wife mangled it ‘cause of an irrational fear about a little mouse.  Thought I heard something behind me and jumped, but covered it with a cough.  Looked around surreptitiously, didn’t see anything, thank God.   I hate mice.  I hate rats worse, though.  Don’t much like any crawly things, still can’t understand why Dhani got so interested in snakes lately!  Gave a shiver, but smiled reassuringly at the wife.

“I’ll call the pest control people right this minute, love, don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.”

Her grip started to loosen as her fright subsided, and before my fingers went blue, thank God!  Must have been a mouse, then, and not a very big one, either.  If it had been a rat, I’d have probably lost me arm by the time she got over her scare.  I escorted her out of the kitchen to safety and she finally released me.  Headed back into the den of horror (the kitchen, of course) and picked up the phone whilst keeping me eyes peeled open for any sight of the dirty little creature.

Hmmmm, that was funny, the line was dead, but it happens sometimes in the winter, Henley isn’t exactly the most modern town in the country, you know.  Well, it’s a good thing we’ve come into the modern age here at FP.  I pulled my (wait for it!) cell phone (cheers) from my pocket.  It was a Christmas pressie from Livy last year, dunno why, but she thought it might come in handy.  Guess she was afraid I might get lost in the house again.  Only happened once, but she’s never let me forget it. 

Anyway, it was coming in handy right now.  Smart woman I married!  I flipped me cell open and realized it wasn’t programmed with numbers like our home phone was.  Sighed and dug around in the kitchen, looking for the phone book.

“George?  What are you doing?  Have you called Wilson’s?  When will they be here?”

Hark, the dreaded “what are you doing” call.  Means she’s checking up on me, thinks I can’t handle this on me own!

“Th’ phone’s out, dear, I’m looking for the phone book,” I replied, trying to put a smile in my voice. 

Actually, I’m glad she’d said something, I’d forgotten the name of the pest control company we use, the accounting firm writes the checks, don’t pay it much attention meself. 

“It’s in the front library on the first floor,” she sang out.  “The one on the east side.”

Sighed in resignation, closed all the drawers and cabinets and trudged upstairs to the front library.  Sometimes it doesn’t pay to have a house as big as a museum.  No wonder I got lost that once.  Well, it happened more than once, but I’m not gonna tell her that.  Pattie used to get lost, too, but things were a bit different then, that was the 60’s, you know. 

Or close enough to it. 

And you know I’m certainly not gonna tell her about Pattie getting lost in here, you should never talk about the ex wife to th’ new wife, not even when th’ new wife’s been around fer a hella lot longer than the ex wife ever was.  Not unless you want a ‘miff’ that lasts for bloody years!  Got a bad case of the shivers just thinking about that and forgot why I’d walked into the library.

Oh, right, the damned mouse!

Settled meself in a chair and looked up the number.  Dialed and waited through the rings.

“Hullo, this is Wilson’s, the extermination specialist, we’re not in right now, but if you’ll leave your name and number, we’ll return your call as soon as possible.  Beep!”

Damn.  Cleared me throat.

“Errrr, this is Mr. Jones up at, errrrr, the residence on the outskirts of town,” I said, tugging at my collar. 

I hate talking on those infernal machines, I keep worrying that anything I say on an answering machine is gonna end up on a bootleg CD that some fanatical collectors will be trading all ‘round the world, you know?  I heard about one of those bootlegs that was a solid hour of me clearing me throat.  Can you imagine?  I don’t do it that often!

Cleared me throat and opened me mouth to continue when I heard another beep, then the dial tone rang out.

Damn, forgot about the time limitation thingie.  I dialed again and waited through the rings.

“Hullo, this is Wilson’s, the extermination specialist, we’re not in right now, but if you’ll leave your name and number, we’ll return your call as soon as possible.  Beep!”

Cleared me throat. 

“Errr, this is Mr. Jones again.  Look, we’ve got a bit of a ……”

Beep!

Bit me lip to keep from swearing.  Doesn’t help the inner tranquility, you know.  Not to mention that the wife frowns on me swearing.  I try to avoid conflict in the house, you know.  I spend a lotta time in the garden some days.

I dialed the phone and waited through the rings.

“Hullo, this is Wilson’s, the extermination specialist, we’re not in right now, but if you’ll leave your name and number, we’ll return your call as soon as possible.  Beep!”

Cleared me throat. 

“This is Mr. Jones, we’ve got a mouse problem, come right away!”

Got it all out in one breath, then waited for the ending beep.  There wasn’t one.

Cleared me throat, was someone having me on? 

“Errrr, hullo?” I asked.

Nothing.

I rang off in a sweat; pushed the ‘end call’ button and wondered if I should ring again.

“George?”

Jumped to me feet. 

“Yes, dear?”

“Did you get hold of anyone at Wilson’s?”

What to say?  Damn!  Bit me lip.  Cleared me throat.

“Errrr, yeah, Livy, they’ll be out shortly.”

She peeked into the library and the relief was evident on her face. 

“Thank you, honey.  I’m going to go out shopping, I don’t want to even be in the house while that mouse is here, it had better be gone by the time I get home.”

I walked her to the door and helped her into her heavy coat, kissed her goodbye, told her not to sign anything in town, those damned credit card slips keep coming up for sale on eBay and it frosts me to see ‘em there.  She just gave me ‘the look’ and then went down the steps to the waiting car.  Imagine, she wasn’t gonna leave me with a list of “honey-do’s” today!  Waved goodbye to her and went back into the house.  She’d be back when she ran out of money.  Frightening thought, that.

Stood in the entryway for a piece, wondering what to do next.

“Well, George, are ya gonna chance calling Wilson’s again?  You know it’s gonna end up on a bootleg somewhere or other.”

Squared me shoulders and answered meself.

“We can do this ourselves!  I mean, I can do this meself!  They left some traps and such the last time they were here, can’t be too difficult, we’ll just take care of the problem ourselves.  Myself, I mean.”

Damn, I hate it when I talk to meself. 

But somebody once said the only way to conquer your fears is to face them.  So I was gonna go face to face with a mouse, and guess who’d be the victor?

Me, of course!  That was a rhetorical question.

Spent the next hour looking for the traps and such that Wilson’s had left, finally found ‘em in one of the upstairs rooms.  They were a bit simple, weren’t they?  A piece of wood, some metal wires, this should be dead easy.  I rubbed me hands together and got started.

Two hours later, the desk in front of me was piled with bits and pieces of traps that I’d had to disassemble to figure out how they worked, and I was in a sweat.  I finally broke down and read the directions.

“Oh, that’s it?” 

I grumbled a bit about how they’d made it appear much more difficult than it really was, and I got my first trap put together.  Decided I should test it, so I found a pencil in the library and ……….

Holy Krsna!

Felt the blood drain from me head when the damned thing went off like a rocket, snapping the pencil in two!  The trap and pencil went airborne, flying across the room in one direction and the snapped half of the pencil in the other!  I barely ducked away from the pencil as the trap itself knocked into a lamp, nearly knocked it off the damned table, but I caught it just in time.  Livy’d have killed me if that antique lamp got smashed!  But I was simply astounded, can you imagine what it would be like if a…… errr…… living body part was caught in the trap like that?  It’s a bloody good thing I didn’t test it with me finger, I’d not be a guitarist much longer if that had been the case!

Damn!

There had to be a better way.

I threw all the wood-and-metal-wire traps away, and searched a bit more.  Found some sheets of cardboard with a rip-off paper backing on them.  I learned me lesson with the wood and wire traps.  I read the directions first this time.  Oh, they were glue paper.  The mouse would run onto the glue and be good and stuck and then the exterminator people would just come and take the mouse away.

Easy as pie!  Ripped off the backing paper and attempted to fold the cardboard into the ‘mouse house’ that the directions described.

An hour later, I had twenty-seven of the houses built, but that didn’t count the fifteen I’d had to throw away because I got stuck to them, or stuck them to the desk or the carpet or …… well, you get the idear.  Miserably sticky stuff, that glue, I was picking it out of my hair and off my sweater, and then sticking meself to me sweater in the process!  But they were finally all set!  Went around the house, carefully placing the mouse houses everywhere I thought a mouse might venture.  Then I waited.  And waited.

It was afternoon before I heard a noise coming from the kitchen.  It sounded a bit frantic and ominous, and I was nearly hopping about with glee, figuring I’d caught my first mouse.  I cautiously peeked ‘round the corner.

Spent the next hour getting the cardboard and glue out of the cat’s fur.  She had her heavy winter coat on, too, so it was ‘specially difficult.  Had to take the scissors to Margarita before I could get her completely freed.  She was surprisingly good about it, holding quite still, but the glares she was giving me rivaled Livy’s glares.  Thank God for Dhani living in the house, otherwise I’d be surrounded by women!  Come to think of it, it must be a ‘woman’ thing to know just how to glare at a man, even Rita, our housekeeper, was known to do it a time or two.  Dhan was saved by age and inexperience, he was just a lad, and everyone doted on him.  I got the full brunt of glares from all the women in the house.  Including Margarita!

Gotta say that the little puss-cat looked pretty good when I finished, if you didn’t look too closely at the sorta bald patch on her side.  It was a lucky thing she’s a short hair, hate to think what a long hair cat would look like after a run in with a mouse house!  She was definitely not happy about the bald patch, though.  Wasn’t really bald, it was just a bit shorter than her usual fur.  But she gave me what for, a long lecture that included a lot of meows and some growls and a few hisses, and then she stalked off, tail in the air and a definite attitude to her walk. 

I could swear the cat really talks sometimes, you know? 

But I doubted she’d have another run in with a mouse house, I’m pretty sure she was gonna stay clear of ‘em from that point on.  Smart cat, that, rarely have to tell her anything twice.

Decided I was thirsty after all that work and walked back into the kitchen to get a glass of water.  Heard this horrible squeak and froze in me tracks.  Looked down to the floor, and over by the sink, there was a mouse rear end and tail sticking out of one of the mouse houses.  Saw a gray streak go by and barely caught Margarita as she zero’d in on the noise.  She was furious, wanted at the mouse desperately, but I didn’t wanna have to dig another mouse house out of her fur, so I shoved her into the medium sized dining room (the one on the north side, across from the kitchen) and closed the door.  Made her even more furious, she made quite a racket!  I’d forgotten how loud she could be.  When we’d brought her home from America when Dhan was only ten (or twelve?), she’d nearly emptied the first class cabin with her caterwauling. 

Good grief, that was, what, six or seven years ago?  Time flies.  Dhan was just about ready to leave for college over in America this coming autumn, wondered how his dogs would get along without him.  They’d be pining for sure.  ‘course, I’d be doing that, too, Dhani’s me little buddy.  Well, not so little any longer, th’ boy’s nearly my height!  Time really does fly, doesn’t it?  I think he was trying to break the parental units of their hold on him this winter, he was staying away sometimes during the weeks, staying over at friends houses.  FP sure felt empty without him.

A loud squeak brought me back to the present.  The mouse house was moving around on the floor a bit and I was afraid to pick it up.  It was really creepy.  I fled to the library and checked the phone.  It was working this time, so I punched “*8” for Wilson’s and sat down in a chair, waited through the rings.

“Hullo, this is Wilson’s, the extermination specialist, we’re not in right now, but if you’ll leave your name and number, we’ll return your call as soon as possible.  Beep!”

Damn!  There still wasn’t anyone there.

“Look, this is Mr. Jones up the road on the outskirts of town.  I’ve got a mouse……”

Beep!

Swore good and proper this time, the wife wasn’t in the house to reprimand me.  Punched “*8” again.  Viciously.  Waited through the rings.

“Hullo, this is Wilson’s, the extermination specialist, we’re not in right now, but if you’ll leave your name and number, we’ll return your call as soon as possible.  Beep!”

“Look, this is Mr. Jones, I’ve got a mouse in a trap and I need someone……”

Beep!

Don’t wanna write what I swore about this time.  I hate this!  It’s all too much.  Went back and peeked into the kitchen.  The squeak that greeted me near rattled me nerves to the breaking point.  It was awful!

Back to the library, punched “*8” again and waited through the rings.

“Hullo, this is Wilson’s, the extermination specialist, we’re not in right now, but if you’ll leave your name and number, we’ll return your call as soon as possible.  Beep!”

“I’ve-got-a-bloody-mouse-in-a-bloody-trap-and-I-want-someone-out-here-RIGHT-AWAY-t’-take-care-o’-th’-bloody-thing!  This is Mr. Jones!”

Slammed the receiver down with a violence, didn’t even wait for the damned beep.

Waited a couple hours.  Paced a lot.  The squeaking from the kitchen was growing fainter, but it was just enough to keep me on edge.  And Margarita continued to raise a fuss in the dining room, that didn’t help me nerves.  I was afraid to look in there, she’d probably torn the room to bits.  Never knew a cat could be so destructive, but that first night we’d brought her home, she’d wrecked a bedroom in 10 minutes, didn’t want to think of what she’d done to the dining room in a few hours!  And Livy was due home before long.  What was I gonna do?

I finally crept into the kitchen.  The mouse house was in the middle of the floor.  Stood there kinda indecisively for a bit, then finally got down on me hands and knees a distance from it, wanted to jump up and run away, like that fellow did in the Monty Python film. 

“Sir Robin bravely ran away……”

Ducked me head down to the floor for a look, ready to jump.

“Hullo, Mickey, gotcha!” I announced.

The little white mouse just looked at me, shivering in his house, half in and half out and utterly and completely stuck.  One of Dhan’s …… errrrr …… snake meals must have gotten loose.  That gave me the shivers, definitely, hated to think of the snakes eating live food, but that’s kinda the way of things, isn’t it?  Still…… pretty disgusting, ya know?

“Don’t look at me that way, you know you’re not supposed to be loose in the house!” I told him.

He continued to look at me ‘that way’, blinking and sniffing and looking utterly bedraggled and sad.

“It’s not my fault!” I told him.  “You’re the one stupid enough to get out of your cage and go where you’re not wanted, and you’re the one stupid enough to get stuck in a house of glue!”

He gave a little shiver and weakly struggled to get free.  It was awful.  Horrible.  He was just trying to escape certain death, only to be trapped like this.

Spent the next hour in the icy shed with Mickey, unsticking him from the mouse house.  Took a lotta warm soapy water and a sharp knife, hope he didn’t drink too much of the water, and I hope I didn’t hurt his feet, ‘tho I tried really hard to be careful and didn’t draw any blood.  Mickey was surprisingly good about it, just uttered a few squeaks every now and then and shivered.  Had to keep warming the water, didn’t want him to catch his death of a cold.

Wasn’t sure what to do with him when I finished, but I found a box and put him in there with a warm rag for a blanket, gave him a handful of the seeds and grains we keep ‘round the place for the birds.  Hoped that’d do him for a while.  Hoped he wouldn’t freeze to death!  ‘bout that point, I heard the car in the drive, so I washed up quick and headed for the door.

“’bye Mickey, be a good boy,” I said.  Or girl, dunno how you tell.  Don’t care, really.  Suppose only another mouse cares about that sort of thing.  Probably a ‘Minnie’ instead of a ‘Mickey’, that’d be typical, I’m surrounded by women for the most part.

Pasted a big smile on me face and met the wife’s car.

“Well, did ya buy out th’ town?” I asked, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Almost,” she said, smiling mysteriously.  That’s never good.  “Did the exterminators come?”

“Errrr, yeah, no more mouse problem,” I said confidently, leading the way and opening the door for her.

Walked into the house and heard this awful noise.  Oh, damn, I’d left the cat in the dining room!  Rushed over and let her out.  She was furious, in a very cat-like way.  You know, that female glare thing again.  She was spitting and growling a bit, too, a very unhappy cat.  Gotta say it just reminded me of how she’d been when I’d first seen her, so I didn’t pay her any mind and picked her up.  She was instantly quiet, her nose pressed into me sweater.  Thought she was gonna suckle it like a kitten does, it was really weird, ‘cause she hadn’t done that in a l-o-n-g time, she was a grown cat now!

“What was Margarita doing in the dining room, honey?” Livy asked.

Cleared me throat and shut the door so she wouldn’t see what a mess there was. 

“Oh, errr, she must ‘ave got stuck in there.  You know, curious as a cat, she was prob’ly explorin’……”

“What are all these little boxes?” came the next question as we walked into the kitchen, the cat with her nose still firmly pressed against my sweater, snuffling and drooling and kneading.  It was kinda disgusting.  Got to thinking she probably smelled Mickey on me sweater.

“Oh, errrr, those are th’ traps th’ exterminators left,” I said meekly. 

Tried to put Margarita down, but she wasn’t having any of it, fought to stay near me sweater.  Decided to avoid a row and kept holding onto her.  Livy looked at me, narrowing her eyes.  Oh, God, that’s the precursor to the glare.  That’s when I started to sweat, felt a thin trickle of it running down me back and I wanted to squirm.

“George, what’s wrong with Margarita’s side?” she asked, tilting her head in that way that makes me think she thinks I’ve done something wrong.  The sweat was nearly dripping off me now.

Cleared me throat, bit me lip.  “Oh, errrrr, it’s nothing, she just……”

Thought fast.  I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?  No!  Not this time, anyway!

“Errrr, she got stuck on one of th’ mouse traps an’ I had a time of it cleanin’ her up, she was stuck good an’ proper, and none to happy ‘bout it.”

“Oh, the poor kitty, here, Margarita, poor thing!”

Over the years, Livy’s taken to the cat, which is a good thing, ‘cause Margarita’s really Livy’s cat.  She tried to take the cat from me and got scratched for her efforts.

“What on earth……?  What’s wrong with her, what did you get on your sweater?  She’s acting like she wants to roll in it!  Were you out playing in the garden again?  I hope you didn’t fall down in the steer manure again!”

It’s hard to hold an ecstatic, squirming cat, so I put her down, but she wove herself around my legs and feet so much, putting up such a fuss that I had to pick her up again.

“What have you done, George?” Livy asked mildly.

“Nothing!  N……nothing!  I swear!”

Did I mention that her glare is lethal?  I wilt under it.  I mean, I cave under the pressure of it, seriously.  Ended up spitting out the whole sordid story, every single detail.  Luckily, she must have found some good bargains at the antique shops she likes, ‘cause she was laughing through the whole thing. 

Well, almost the whole thing.

‘til I got to the end, that is.

“You did what????” she asked, her eyes wide with astonishment and horror.

“Well, you’d ‘ave done the same thing, Livy!  It was pathetic, really, the poor thing was trapped an’ stuck, an’ what was I gonna do, let Margarita have it?  That’d be cruel!”

“Where is it?” she asked icily.

Damn.  It looked like a ‘miff’ was brewing.  I was in big trouble.  Big trouble.

“In th’ shed…..” I muttered.

The sun had gone down, so I had to find a working torch, and we set out across the garden to the offending shed once we’d got into our coats.  Livy was really quiet, and it made me extremely nervous, that.  She hung back as I opened the door to the shed and turned on the lights.  Talked as I walked to the back of the shed and the box with Mickey in it.

“Nothing t’ worry ‘bout, dear, c’mon in, he’s just a little tiny thing, he’s right here……”

Cleared me throat when I looked down into an empty box.  No, that’s not right.  It wasn’t quite empty.  It still had some bird seed in it, and it had a nicely chewed hole in one corner.

Damn.

Cleared me throat again as Livy gingerly approached.

“Is it there?” she asked, glaring at me.

I shook me head.

Livy screamed and jumped into me arms.  Good thing she’s a lightweight and I’m the big strong man.  I think I got points for carrying her back to the house, but I’m sure I lost points for being stupid enough to put Mickey in a cardboard box that he could chew his way out of.

Saw a van pulling up the drive as we got to the steps, set Livy down and waited for them.  Sure enough, it was Wilson himself, all apologetic about not making it out before now.  I cringed when Livy glared at me, but she took over from there, directing the man to the shed.  I didn’t want anything further to do with the subject of mice or their disposal, so I went back into the house, only to have Margarita plastered to me when I tried to sit down.  I finally changed clothes, gave her the sweater she was so intent upon, and then tried to watch a little telly.

Kept thinking of Mickey all alone out in the shed, felt pretty bad about him, wondered if he’d learned from his experience and would stay out of the mouse houses or not.  Kinda hoped the little feller got away.  Picked up all the mouse houses in the house and threw ‘em away.  Only got a couple of ‘em stuck to me.

It wasn’t too icy when I crawled into bed that night, but I figgered I’d better be on my best behaviour for a time, to try and keep the peace, of course!

Wilson himself came back for the next three days in a row and never caught a single mouse.  Kinda breathed a sigh of relief over that, and I just hoped Mickey’d stay outta the house from now on, and outta Livy’s sight.  Was glad the little critter wasn’t gonna be snake food, either. 

Things eventually calmed down, Margarita was happy with her new sweater bed and Livy got over her miff.  Dhani came home on the weekend and laughed at the stories about the mouse in the house.  ‘course, I embellished ‘em a bit.  Just a bit.  Enjoyed makin’ the boy laugh.  Even Livy laughed a bit.  A bit.  Dhan promised to keep better control over his charges, and he promised he’d take all his charges to college with him, too, or have friends snake-sit them.  Thank God!

Things were totally back on an even keel ‘bout three weeks later when I got a phone call.

“George, how are ya, old man?”

It was Sir-Always-Calls-At-Teatime.  Picked up my cuppa, winked an apology at Livy and trudged off to the downstairs library on the south side.

“’lo, Paulie, guess if I’m an old man, yer a dinosaur, eh?” I asked.  “Don’t ferget, yer still 9 months older ‘n me!  What’s up, man?”

“Oh, nuthin’ really, just callin’ t’ be sociable, like,” he replied casually.

I was instantly on guard.  His tone was too smug, he had something he couldn’t wait to brag about.

Y’ see, we’ve always kinda had a bit of a competition going on.  A bit of a way to take a little dig at each other.  It’s all in fun, of course, but sometimes it gets pretty serious.  And it’s really escalated lately.  Y’ see, he hasn’t forgiven me since he found out I’ve got that old acetate and won’t let him have it, so the little digs have been escalating a bit over the years.  Heh heh heh.  He wants the acetate desperately.  Desperately. 

I love having one up on him.  That’s power!  Sorta makes up for some of the Maxwell Silver Hammer memories.  Well, nothing really makes up for those memories, but it helps make ‘em a bit easier to bear, anyway.

“What are you on about, Sir Smug?” I asked, cutting to the chase.  “You’re gloating, I can hear it in yer voice!  What ‘ave ya got?  A new car?  A painting?  A swimming pool?  James been accepted t’ Uni?  Ya bein’ knighted again?  Or are they gonna make ya King this time?”

He snorted.  “No.  Better.”

That got me attention.  What could possibly be better from Paul’s point of view?  Tried to be casual about it, though.

“Right, yer puttin’ on airs again.  Whatcha got?”

If I begged, he’d go underground, gloating in private, so I had to be pretty casual.  Guess I succeeded, or else he just couldn’t wait to tell me and didn’t need a lot o’ prodding.

“I got my hands on th’ sole copy of a lovely little bootleg……” he teased.

Boring.  “Yeah?  What of?” I asked.

“Oh, just a little something I thought I’d offer up on that Beatles bootleg CD trading list we both belong to……”

He was gonna make me drag it outta him, wasn’t he?  I wasn’t too interested in playing.

“Yeah?  Well, that’s nice,” I said, pretending to smother a yawn.

Heard him sigh.  “You take all the fun outta things, son.  Wanna hear a bit of it?”

Took a sip of me tea, then allowed as how, yeah, he could play a bit for me.

“OK, here goes, listen carefully……” he muttered.

I waited just a few seconds, then sat bolt upright when I heard a scratchy voice scream “I’ve-got-a-bloody-mouse-in-a-bloody-trap-and-I-want-someone-out-here-RIGHT-AWAY-t’-take-care-o’-th’-bloody-thing!  This is Mr. Jones!”

Unmistakably me, yessiree, no mistaking that voice.  Swore long and viciously (even ‘tho Livy was in the house) whilst Sir Blackmail chortled gleefully.

“That’s just the best bit,” he chuckled.  “I’ve got the whole thing, you know?”

“What d’ya want, Paul?” I asked tiredly.

“Th’ acetate, of course,” he promptly replied.

The bastard had an ear-to-ear grin plastered on his face, I’m certain of it.

“I’ll have t’ think ‘bout it,” I said.

“Sure, sure, take your time, Georgie.  This recording won’t leave my sight.  Until noon tomorrow.  Then it might take a little trip to the recording studio with me, and it might somehow be pressed on CD……”

“Yer not giving me much time, ya sneaky sod.”

He chuckled happily and rang off.

Damn.

Stayed up most of the night thinking about it.  I really didn’t want to let the acetate out of my hands.  It was from so long ago, a different life, really.  I’d been all of seventeen, Paul had been eighteen and John nineteen, I suppose, and all of us hamming it up in that German recording studio, doing that old Marlene Dietrich song.  So embarrassing! 

Which was worse?  It was a matter of degrees, I suppose.  Did I want to be embarrassed by an old recording, or by a new recording?  Even if Paul didn’t release it to the general public, I’d have lost my power over him, and power’s a heady drink.  Once ya have a taste of it, it’s hard to let go.  Damn.

Still hadn’t made up me mind by the next morning, Livy had to shake me awake to take Paul’s call.

“Uhhhh?” I managed.  Heard laughter in reply and that’s all.  How the hell can he be so cheerful in the mornings?  It was only ten o’clock!  In the AM!!

“You awake now?” he finally asked.

“Uh-huh,” I grunted, hoping I was awake enough to talk.

“What’s yer decision?” he asked, doing his own cutting to the chase.

Sighed.  “C’mon over t’night ‘bout eight, bring th’ tape with ya,” I said quietly, dejectedly.

Swear I could feel him gloating over the phone line, and I rang off before he could get another word out.  Moped ‘round all day.  I couldn’t see any way out of this.  Livy finally asked me what was going on, and I had to tell her.  She got a really thoughtful look on her face.

Have I mentioned that I love the woman? 

Smartest girl in the world, sweetest, too, even if she’s got a lethal glare.  She’s got a great memory!  She’s also got a wicked sense of humour and she doesn’t mind helping me take the stuffing out of Sir Paulie.  I’m dead lucky I found her.  She enlisted Dhan’s help and he was a willing accomplice.  I just stood back and watched in utter admiration. 

Have I mentioned I’ve got a great wife and son?

Paul showed up promptly at 8:49, fashionably late but not too late, precisely calculated to make me sweat.  Which I didn’t.  Everything was under control, thanks to the wife and son, and I was feeling pretty confident at this point.  Livy greeted him warmly, took his coat and then left us to our discussion.  Took him to the library (the one on the first floor, west side, the one with the big screen telly in it), had a few drinks to be sociable, then settled down to the bargaining table.

“It’s the acetate or this gets pressed to CD and distributed,” he insisted.  “You’ll be a laughing stock!”

“And if I let you have the acetate, it’ll be pressed and distributed and we’ll both be laughing stocks, Paul!” I argued.

He wouldn’t budge, seriously.  The man had a one track mind on certain things, and this was one of his buttons.  He wanted that acetate so badly he could taste it.

Right on time, Dhan walked into the room with his latest purchase on his arm.  Kinda gave me the creeps to see th’ four-foot boa constrictor outta the cage like that, but Paul shot out of his chair and near screamed.  He never did like snakes, I thought with satisfaction, hiding a grin.  Nice of Livy to have remembered that little fact!  She’s a gem, that woman!  Despite the glare.

“Young man, get that bloody thing out of this room!” Paul swore.

“Oh, hullo, Uncle Paul, didn’t know you were here with Da.  What, you don’t like Betsy?  She’s very friendly,” Dhani said, advancing on Paul, arm outstretched for Paul to admire the snake.

“Don’t come near me with that, Dhani!  Hell, get it out of here!” Paul shouted, stepping back behind his chair to keep it between them.  Cowering away from the snake.

Oh, this was good!  I wanted to keep it going just to see what would happen next, but Dhan apparently got cold feet, or he got worried that Sir Snake-O-Phobia might hurt Betsy, so the son shrugged, winked at me, and left the room.

Paul struggled to control himself, wiping a hand over his sweaty forehead.

“Christ, I hate snakes!” he muttered.  “I nearly peed me pants!”

Oh, this was better than perfect!  I got up and walked over to the little camera on the desk that had been in plain view the entire time, casually switched it off, hit the rewind button on it. 

Ignored the swearing behind me, worked hard to keep the grin off me face. 

Turned on the library’s big screen telly, everything already pre-set and ready to go, pressed ‘stop’, then ‘play’ on the camera and watched calmly as the entire scene I’d just witnessed played out nearly life size and in technicolour.  The camera had been cleverly set up so that only Paul was visible, and Dhani had advanced into the room just far enough that the snake on his arm could be seen, but that’s all.  They’d spent most of the day working out the angles and everything, and we were just lucky that Dhan was also interested in electronics and cameras and such!  Couldn’t believe Paulie hadn’t seen the little red light on the damned thing the entire time we’d been talking! 

Watched the screen in satisfaction, still trying to hide the grin.  Paul’s voice was loud and clear, mine and Dhan’s were really muffled.  Perfect.  Me son’s a genius.  Livy, too!  I’m the luckiest man in the world, seriously!

Rewound the little tape again and popped it out, turned to face me old mate and casually tossed the tape in the air and caught it one handed.  The silence was deafening.

“You bloody blackmailer,” Paul finally swore viciously.

I like to think there was a bit of admiration in his tone. 

Takes one t’ know one, I thought, and I knew I’d have to be completely on guard with him from this point forward.  I merely smiled in reply, and waited.

“What d’ya plan on doing with that?” he asked after several minutes of glaring at me.  Didn’t do a thing, though.  I’ve been glared at by the best, and Paul’s glares were a pale shadow of Livy’s.  Didn’t bother me a bit.

“Well, I found this Beatles bootleg video trading list on the ‘net recently, thought I might copy it and distribute it there,” I told him, trying hard to keep the gloating out of my voice.  I had him, I had the bastard and there was nothing he could do except play out the hand I’d dealt.  With Livy and Dhani’s help, of course!

“You wouldn’t dare……” he breathed.

We looked eye to eye for several minutes.  Resolve met resolve.  Oughta face yer fears, Paulie, I told him.  With my eyes, of course, didn’t dare say it aloud.  But it had worked with me and mice, wasn’t afraid of ‘em after the run in with Mickey, ya know.  I was just glad Paul hadn’t faced up to his snake-fear, this would have never worked otherwise!

It was a standoff.  Livy would have called it a Mexican standoff, and I nearly laughed thinking of that.  Smart girl, a wonderful girl!  Despite the lethal glare.

Paul finally sighed and pulled the audio cassette tape from the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Izzat th’ only copy?” I asked, looking at him sternly.

He nodded in resignation.  “An’ yers?” he muttered.

I nodded.  Greatly daring, I held out the 8mm tape in my open palm and just looked at him.  Wasn’t really that daring, if he snatched the tape and ran, I knew Dhani could run him down and stop him.  With the snake.  For that matter, I could run him down pretty easily, I’ve worked hard to stay in shape over the years, and Sir Potbelly looked like he’d been enjoying a bit of the good life, Lin’s cooking was catching up with him.  Good cook, that woman!

Paul sighed, stood still for a moment of indecision, then took the 8mm tape from me and dropped the audio cassette into me hand.  I slapped him on the back and turned on the gas fire in the fireplace nearest us.  We each carefully pulled the tape from the case we held and fed it to the fire.  Regretted seeing the film go up in flames, that last statement he’d made ‘bout nearly peeing his pants was almost worth the price of having a bootleg cd in circulation with me screaming about a mouse!  But fair’s fair after all, and both tapes were soon completely consumed by the flames.

“Don’t be so dejected, Paulie!  Wanna listen to some music?”

He morosely trudged behind me into the first floor music room on the south side, and I played him the acetate.  Cheered him up immensely, and we had a good giggle over it.  Made sure I never left him alone with it, and made sure it was carefully locked up in the safe before I went to bed that night.

“Everything go okay?” Livy mumbled as I crawled in beside her.

“Worked like a charm.  You’re brilliant, love, absolutely brilliant!” I said admiringly, cuddling up with her.

The phone rang, and I reached for it. 

“Hullo?”

Heard a muffled noise, then heard meself screaming ‘bout a mouse. 

“You swine!” I said mildly as he began to laugh.  Evilly.

Livy poked me and handed me the remote.  I pushed the proper button and held the phone up so that the caller heard what was playing on the telly.

Grinned evilly when I heard the end of the scene loud and clear.

“Christ, I hate snakes!  I nearly peed me pants!” that oh-so-familiar voice said.

Hit the ‘stop’ button and yawned as I put the phone back to me ear. 

“G’night, Paulie.  Better luck next time, old man.”

I heard a very heavy sigh and then the line went dead. 

Livy started to giggle, and I had to tickle her into submission.  Dhan yelled from down the hallway to quit the noisemaking and be respectable, and that sent us both into giggling fits, took a while to recover from that.

Smart woman I married!  And a smart son we’ve raised.  This afternoon, as they’d hooked the camera up so that it was connected to the upstairs recorder, they’d both said that insurance was a handy thing to keep around.

Mexican standoff, I thought with satisfaction.  Paul can’t release the cd as long as I have the ‘insurance’.  Into the safe it goes tomorrow, alongside the acetate!

“I’ll call Wilson if there’s any further mouse problems,” Livy promised with a yawn.  “I don’t want you leaving any more messages on any answering machine, got it?”

Cheryl Mortensen has been a Beatle fanatic since the 1960s, but somehow went on to other things in the late 1960s, only rediscovering her passion for "all things Beatle" in the late 1990s (and on into the new century).  She is a computer programmer and an avid photographer. (Concert photos of bands and performers is her favorite area -- ask her about her Ringo pictures!!)  Cheryl lives with her husband of many years (Mike), her German Shepherd (Sorsha), and a bunch of fish in the tank and the pond that they've never bothered to name.