The Rats!

The narrator wakes up to a large motherfucker sitting on the kitchen table, and they both feel startled by the sight. It's their first night in their new home, a small farmhouse with more land than they could ever use but at a price that was almost too good. Jennifer asks what's going on, and the narrator suggests going back to sleep, as she already had.

The house takes on a whole life of its own in the dark, and the narrator descended the unfamiliar stairs, feeling the hairs on the back of their arms stand alert. They heard sounds of skittering and moonlight flooded in through the window of the front door, illuminating something that hadn't been there when they arrived. The living room was silent, except for the remaining embers of last night's fire, snapping and glowing in the hearth.

The hallway was littered with boxes of our belongings, and the rat was still looking at them. The narrator cracks the door, clicks on the torch, and shone it into the room. "Freeze!" he shouts, not knowing what else to say. A huge motherfucking rat swiveled its head and stared at the light.

Then, the door to the basement hanging open, and it banged against its frame. I pushed the door shut, slotting the wrought iron lock into place. When I turned, the rat was still looking at me. I hated rodents, but not as much as my wife did. If she saw it, she would pack up immediately, head for the car, and stay locked inside until I drove her to her parent's house.

I whispered, "Do you want some cheese?" I whispered, not expecting a response. I didn't break eye contact, not wanting the bugger to escape. I would slip my hand into the fridge, pull out some leftover stilton from our celebratory cheese board the night before, and send the Maglite crashing down on its little rodent skull, and problem solved.

I reached in, picked up the cheese, and the rat raised its nose and sniffed, revealing its large front teeth. I told the rat to go, and it began munching. I turned off the torch, and the moonlight lit the dining table well enough. I approached, holding the heavy black metal weapon over my head.

A squeak made me pause, and before I knew it, the dining table was covered in rats, dozens of them, all waiting patiently for a bite of the cheese. I felt something pull on my jeans, and I looked down to see two shiny orbs staring back at me.

I threw the remaining cheese on the floor, and watched in panic as a wave of brown and gray raced towards the food, leaving a pathway to the door. I ran, closing the kitchen door behind me.

Charles wakes up in the morning, feeling uneasy and unsure of his new home. He finds a note on his kitchen door stating that there is someone on his property. He wonders if the note is true and where they might be hiding. Jennifer, the owner of the property, informs him that they may have mice. Charles is hesitant to set up traps but decides to clean the kitchen before going to bed. He prepares breakfast and is interrupted by a man who offers to help. The man, dressed in a pirate-like outfit, tells Charles that he has to deal with the mice quickly or else they will take advantage of him. He leads Charles around the house, showing him his land, which he finds awe-inspiring.