C.K. took his time going downstairs, dragging his feet like he was condemned already. He counted the fourteen steps to the bottom, turned right, made the eleven step journey to the kitchen doorway, followed by eight more steps to the kitchen table, where he finally took a seat in between Mr. Percy and the officer. He already felt guilty. His face showed it, too.
“Hello, young man! You probably know why I’m here today!” said the officer, excessively loud. “I am here because—”
“You don’t have to shout,” C.K. told him. “I’m blind, not deaf.”
“Oh. Right,” said the officer. “Well, I noticed you up in your bedroom a few minutes ago when I was walking up the drive. I bet you hear a lot of what’s going on out there?”
“Yes, I hear everything,” said C.K. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, officer, but can we just get this over with quickly, please? I feel bad enough already.”
“Ah, getting right down to business,” said the officer with a nod of approval. “Then it’s my duty as an officer of the law to ask you a serious question.”
“Just one?” asked C.K.
“Yes, just the one,” said the officer.
C.K. was certain that the police officer had some crucial piece of evidence that could prove he knew who was behind it all. He couldn’t bear the thought of handing his decayed best friend over to the authorities. The very idea was too painful! He would rather go to prison than rat out (mouse out) his best friend.
“Go ahead, Mr. Officer,” said C.K. “Ask me your one incriminating question.”
“Do you…” The officer cleared his throat.
“Yes?”
“Do you…”
If C.K. could see, he would have easily spotted the smirk that was spreading across the officer’s pockmarked but ruggedly handsome face.
Finally, the officer asked, “Do you have any idea who is behind all this soul-sucking?”
C.K. wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. As bravely as he could, he said, “You mean do I know the whereabouts of an ancient Egyptian Pharaoh-mouse whose main objective is to take over this town one family at a time? And subsequently the entire continent? And from there possibly going on to reign supreme over the entire human race?”
C.K. fully expected to feel handcuffs being slapped on his wrists.
Everyone was on edge, awaiting the officer’s response.
“Good heavens,” muttered Principal Polymer. “What’s all this mouse business?”
Those dead, demonic mouse-eyes stared up at him with the red hot intensity of ten thousand Hot Tamales. Mr. Polymer had no choice but to look deep into the eyes of Mummy Mouse…and obey.
Mummy Mouse was plus-one for the evening.
Then, turning to the audience, he struck again.
And again.
And again.