Excerpt from “Pests”
The doorbell rang and Timothy went to answer the front door with Bowser scurrying behind, his nails clicking on the old pine floors. The exterminator was wearing a uniform just like in the TV ad with a cap like an airline captain’s with a shiny badge. He was squinting, peering into the darkness of the house, holding an aluminum clipboard.
“It’s bright today,” he said. Timothy looked out at the melting snow. The sky was deep blue, and the white of the snow reflected the sun. “Please come in,” he said and the man stepped inside. “Heather, the exterminator’s here,” he yelled.
“Nice place. These old houses were built well. Nice oak trim.” He ran his hand over the door molding.
“Original varnish,” Timothy said.
“But because they’re old, there are lots of ways for rodents to enter. Cracks here and there.” When the man spoke, he had a slight tic of wrinkling his nose and exposing his front teeth, which were smallish. His bushy mustache moved and stray whiskers pointed in odd angles. Bowser was sniffing his shoes.
“A dog, eh?” he said bending to pet Bowser. “That’s your problem right here. Do you leave his food out?”
“Yes. It’s self-serve for Bowser.”
“Where’s his bowls?”
Timothy led him to the kitchen. Heather was pouring a cup of coffee, ready to go to the airport, her suitcase and computer bag by the back door. The exterminator tipped his hat to her.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “My husband’s been getting a little obsessed with trying to get rid of the mice with traps. But no matter how many he puts out, there are always more to trap the next night. I can’t take that snapping and clicking at night. For the entire week, all we hear at night is the snapping of the traps, like popcorn.” She smiled.
“Yep, the mice are having a feast. Lots of food and water. Living like kings,” the exterminator said. “You’re gonna have to put the food up, keep the bag closed. And for a while, keep the water bowl dry too for starters.” He pulled a large flashlight from his belt holster and began inspecting the corners of the floor. “Yep, lots of droppings here,” he said looking in the crack between the refrigerator and wall. “Urine. Smell that?” he said, getting on his hands and knees. He shined the flashlight across the floor toward the broom closet. “I’ll bet you have over three hundred mice.”
Timothy laughed. “Three hundred? Is that your standard spiel to get us to sign up for a service contract? To scare us or embarrass us into signing on?”
“No sir. Not at all. Believe me I’ve seen situations with a lot more mice. Thousands. Got rid of all of them.” He paused, wrinkling his nose, exposing his teeth, and stared at one of Heather’s early works, a bright tornado of pinks and yellows. “Now a service contract is going to insure that the mice won’t return,” he said. “Of course that’s what I recommend. For an additional fee, we can also take care of insects, spiders, silver fish, wasps.”
“I hadn’t thought of all that,” Heather said. “We just moved in early this fall. Late summer, really. There’s a big nest of something in the far back corner.”
“Pigeons too. We can get rid of them too.”
“I don’t think it’s a bird’s nest.”
“I can take a look.”
“No. No. No, Heather,” Timothy said. “We’ll deal with that later if it’s really a problem. We just want to get rid of the mice now.” He looked at the man. “I was going to buy one of those electronic devices, but the one here that controls the purse strings,” he said, nodding toward Heather, “insisted that we get professional help.”
“That was the right decision, ma’am. Those electronic devices are for people who think they might have a problem, but don’t really have a problem and order them out of those catalogues. You definitely have a problem.”
“So can you get rid of them? How much is it going to cost?”
“Our basic yearly plan is reasonable, not all that much more than cable service.”
Timothy forced a smile, and as politely as he could he said, “I’m really, really not interested in a yearly contract. Do you have a one time deal?”
“Well, sir. One time. No. We have a quick clean out package, but it still requires three visits. That’s the minimum. I could begin the process today and return in two weeks and then again four weeks after that. And,” he smiled at Heather, his nose twitching, “I’ll check in a few times extra for no charge. I don’t live too far away.” He paused and looked at Heather’s print again. “You have a lot of nice art work.”
“Oh that’s an old grad school piece of mine. It’s embarrassing. So old.”
“You’re an artist? Well. My wife is an artist too, a pianist. She’s very good really. She’s a piano teacher.”
“Any guarantees?” Timothy asked. The exterminator turned and looked at him quizzically.
“Guarantee? Oh. Well, we can’t really guarantee anything without a service contract, especially if you keep your pet food out. But, to be honest, I’m going to put out a lot of poison, more than necessary. It’ll last and you won’t see mice around for a good long while. I’m only letting you in on this since you’re artists.”
“Poison. I’ve put out poison.”
“Not our kind of poison,” the man smiled and winked. “Let’s see the basement. If you don’t mind I’ll just look around downstairs.”
“It’s this way,” Heather said and led him out of the kitchen to the basement door. “I hardly ever go down there. Help yourself.”
The man disappeared down the stairway. Timothy swallowed and walked Heather down the hallway. “Let’s just get rid of him,” he whispered. “It’s going to cost a lot more than one of the electronic devices. He said the electric things don’t work because it’s his competition. I don’t like him either.”
“He’s a professional. Why don’t you quit obsessing about this? You’ve got too much time on your hands. Work on getting a real job instead of fretting about these pests,” Heather said and looked at her watch. “I’ve got to get going in a half an hour.”
The exterminator came back up the stairs. “Yep. Lots of droppings.” He smiled, looking beyond them. “I sure like all your art and there’s a piano! Do you play?”
“Not really. It’s a friend’s. We’re baby-sitting it. I play around on it sometimes in the evening,” Timothy said.
“I can play it a little. I took piano lessons when I was a girl. I’d love to take it up again.”
“Yeah, right. When? In between your job, your art, and writing your grant proposals. I’ll just slip to maybe number five in your list of priorities. Maybe we might have a pint of Harps sometime?”
Heather looked at him. Smiled curtly, almost as if she didn’t hear and then looked at the exterminator. He moved into the living room and stood near the piano, and Heather and Timothy followed. The exterminator gazed at the Warhol print, and looked closely at the little construction sitting atop the piano. Then he twisted around, surveying the other artwork. “You just don’t see this much cool stuff in most people’s houses.” He tapped out a little melody on the piano and then pulled out his business card from his clipboard. He handed it to Timothy. He paused and pulled out his wallet from his hip pocket and drew another card. “My wife’s card,” he said handing it to Heather. “I’ll have her give you a call or I will. The thing about playing the piano is that it’s just so hard to make that first call for piano lessons, just to get started.”
“Well, Doug,” Timothy said, reading his name from the man’s card and slipping the card into the front pocket of his shirt. “We’ll give you a call.”
“For piano?” the pest control man said and grinned broadly.
“For piano, for your pest control services--whatever. We have to think about it.”
“No. No. Timothy, let’s do this now.” Heather looked at Timothy and furrowed her eyebrows. Then she turned to the exterminator. “Please go ahead. And, I am interested in learning piano.” Timothy grimaced. “Since we have one. My grandmother played beautifully.”
“I’ve got all my stuff in the truck. It’ll take me a half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes, and we’ll get those meeses out of here.” He grinned and paused. Then he pointed to the baseboard by piano. “Look, there goes one now!”
Heather squealed out of surprise and put her hand over her heart. “Oh God. Start now. I’ve got a plane to catch. I hate how they dart out of nowhere,” she said.
“Yep, seeing them in the day means there are a lot of them.”
Timothy shook his head. He hadn’t seen the mouse. It was a sales trick. But he could do nothing.
