Varmint Problem

I am a lifelong Quaker.  My best friend Augusten says I wear that claim like an old sheep-skin, whenever it suits me.  He says, “Oh, better trot out your I’M A QUAKER, I CAN’T WASH MY OWN DISHES, AUGUSTEN.”  Things like that.  But really I’m a very good Child of the Light, in my way, which is a secret.  I  mean the ways I am good are secret ways.

My study is in a barn.  Half of the barn is mine, half of it is still a barn.  There is something big living on the other side, up in the rafters and the stored screen doors which are forming a ceiling.  I hear it every day.  Today I said to J., “When I go home to Indiana at the end of May, I’m borrowing one of Mark’s guns.”  Mark is my dead brother-in-law, so he is good at lending.  J. asked what for and I said, “Because I’m going to kill whatever is living in my barn.”  He said, “How do you plan on going about it?”  This is the sort of question a man raised by academics asks.  I said, “I wait until it rains.  I stand in the dark.  I listen for it to begin moving.  I shine a bright light on its eyes, I fire.”  He said, “What if you miss?”  Again.  Academics.


I discovered yesterday that the creature wreaking havoc on the roof of the barn is some overgrown tree limbs.  Nonetheless, I intend to shoot them.


Published in: on April 22, 2008 at 4:38 pm  Comments Off on Varmint Problem  
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