Chapter Six
The officer responded by laughing his head off. This far-fetched tale was the funniest thing he’d heard in a long time!
Mr. Percy, who was raised to believe that laughter was for foolish people, also began to chuckle. It was the first time ever that C.K. had heard his father’s ridiculous laugh. He didn’t realize his father knew how to laugh. So just to play along, C.K. laughed too. Seeing how this had turned into the perfect opportunity to protect Mummy Mouse’s identity, he made a huge joke about it.
“Do I know who is doing this?” said C.K. mocking the officer’s deep voice. “Of course I do! The one you’re looking for is a mouse! A Mummy Mouse!”
More gut-busting laughter.
“Stop it! Make him stop!” The officer had tears rolling down his cheeks and into his neatly trimmed handlebar moustache. The entire kitchen seemed to shake from his over-the-top hee-haw laughter. “I can’t take anymore! Kid, you’re too much!”
C.K. pushed harder. “He’s laying low until nightfall! That’s when he goes on the attack, using an ancient dialect to drain the life-forces of all those innocent people! He also told me that he’s been hypnotizing family pets into giving him rides, clutching onto the fur of their backs and hitching a ride to the next victim’s house. That’s how he’s been getting around so fast!”
“Ahhh-ha-ha-ha!” The officer pounded the table, completely cracking up.
C.K. didn’t stop until he had the officer in complete hysterics, clutching his sides and begging for him to stop.
“What a hoot!” the officer said as he wiped the tears from his cheek. Getting a hold of himself, he said, “No, I don’t suppose a good boy like you has any involvement in a crime of this dreadful nature. B&E’s, petty theft…sure. But not this.”
The interrogation was over.
“Well folks?” said the officer. “I suppose we’re all done here. Thanks for the cookie and the watered-down, gritty, bad aftertaste coffee.”
C.K. felt a huge but tender hand on his head, ruffling his hair.
“You might not be able to see, C.K.,” said the officer putting his hat back on, “but you’re a smart kid with one heck of a sense of humor.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The officer stood up to leave, towering over Mr. Percy in a terrifying display of biceps and pectoral muscles. He smiled down at C.K.
“Now listen to me, C.K.—”
“Yes, sir?”
“I want you to keep those super-sensitive ears working overtime,” said the officer. “I know you spend a lot of time up in your room, so you just keep listening for any suspicious activity out there, okay?”
“I will, officer,” said C.K. “Oh! I remembered something else, too—”
“Oh?”
“I heard a rumor that the ‘soul-sucker’ as you called him…”
“Yes?”
“Well, he needs a thousand victims to achieve his goal,” C.K. told him. “So he—uh, they—probably won’t be stopping their crime spree anytime soon. It’ll probably take him—them, I mean—a while to obtain that many victims.”
“Only a thousand?” said the officer, rubbing his dimpled but manly chin. “Well, with the three hundred and nine victims they’ve already got, all they’d need is another—” Both the officer and Mr. Percy began counting with their fingers.
“Another…”
“Six hundred ninety-one,” said C.K.
“If that’s how many victims it’ll take for these criminals to be satisfied,” said the officer, “then I suppose all they’d have to do is show up at the Parent Teacher Association meeting tonight. I’m sure there will be at least that many angry parents down at the school to hear about the miseducation of their offspring.”
They headed for the front door as a group.
“Wait!” cried Mr. Percy a moment later. He was standing in the foyer, looking terrified, pointing a finger down at the floor. “Look! It’s a…it’s a…”
The officer looked to where Mr. Percy was pointing, noticing the tiny withered corpse.
“Get a hold of yourself, Mr. Percy,” said the officer. “It’s just a dead mouse. Easy enough to take care of. Just have your wife—oh, sorry. Never mind. You’ll have to take care of it yourself.”
“But you’re a police officer!” said an astounded Mr. Percy. “I thought it was your job to protect civilians from danger?”
“Not from dead critters,” said the officer as he stepped around Mr. Percy. He had to open the front door himself, since Mr. Percy was practically paralyzed with fear. “We handle all sorts of small-time criminals, but not that small. Although, he is a rather menacing looking mouse, isn’t he? Glad he wasn’t living in my house.”
Mr. Percy hardly heard a word. He was tip-toeing gingerly around the tiny mouse corpse. He was terrified of mice! Even dead ones.
“I’ll take care of the dead mouse,” said C.K. “I’ll take him into the backyard and build him a proper burial tomb—uh, dig a hole, I mean.”
From the front porch steps, the officer said, “There’s no sense in acting like a sissy in front of your son, Mr. Percy. It’s only one dead mouse. What harm could it possibly be? Unless it’s your Mummy Mouse, right C.K.?”
C.K. smiled back. “No, of course not! I’ve never seen this mouse before in my life,” he said, feeling less and less guilty the more he lied, like all children do. Then he waved goodbye as the officer headed down the driveway towards his car.
“Goodnight, folks!” shouted the officer. “Thanks for your cooperation.” He got into his souped-up patrol car and immediately rolled down the passenger side window to say a final goodbye to C.K., one of the brightest kids he’d ever encountered. Then he revved the engine and tore down the street in a spectacular smoke show.
Once the front door was closed, Mr. Percy said, “C.K.?”
“Yes, father—I mean, yes, Mr. Percy?”
“Will you please dispose of that hideous dead rodent?”
C.K. cradled his tiny dead best friend (who was clinically dead, and also pretending to be dead) in his loving arms. “Yes, I will take care of him—it, I mean. I’ll take care of it.”
Mr. Percy headed back to the den. “And C.K.? Don’t you dare bury him near my petunias! Since your mother has always hated gardening, someone had to be man enough around here to plant a pristine garden filled with delicate flowers.”
“Don’t worry about a thing!” C.K. shouted from the bottom of the steps. “I won’t bury him next to your flowers. I was just about to go upstairs and look for an old shoe box to bury him in, or maybe one of your hair-coloring boxes will do…”
“Oh, fine. Just get rid of it!”
After C.K. counted his way back up the staircase, he stopped. There was an important question to ask, a question that could potentially save the life-forces of hundreds of innocent people.
Right now, it was absolutely crucial that C.K. keep Mummy Mouse entertained while the PTA meeting was going on down at the school. Otherwise, his egotistical dead best friend would drag his rotted corpse down to the school, or hitch a ride with a random family pet—maybe even Snickers the cat—and drain the life-forces of all those embittered parents. Then he would finally become the most terrifying, tyrannical, and smallest ruler of all time: King Mummy Mouse.
“Dad? Sorry! I did it again…”
“Oh, what now?”
“Will you be going to that PTA meeting tonight? The one the police officer told us about?”
“Of course not,” said Mr. Percy dismissively. “I hardly see the point in it. All I’ve ever wanted for you is a satisfactory job with good health insurance, and an excellent pension plan so you’ll be financially secure enough to take excellent care of me when I am old and withered and grey—just like that dead mouse.”
“Oh. Okay.” Since his father wouldn’t be going to the PTA meeting, there went C.K.’s ride. He knew that he would have to keep Mummy Mouse distracted. Perhaps he would teach Mummy Mouse a board game? Or read to him?
He had to do whatever it took to keep Mummy Mouse’s evil plotting mind off of the PTA meeting, and what a glorious life-force-sucking event it would be!
“Just one more thing, I promise…”
“Yes?!” said an agitated Mr. Percy. He was clearly upset that he’d missed over half of his gardening show, first because of an intrusive knock at the front door, and now all this bothersome family interaction.
“You don’t happen to know what time the PTA meeting starts, do you?” C.K. asked, gently placing his fingers over Mummy Mouse’s shriveled ears. He knew he was putting himself in danger for keeping Mummy Mouse away from the PTA meeting—a literal all-you-can-eat buffet of life-forces. And because of his actions, he knew that he may also have to face the wrath of Mummy Mouse.
“That is none of your concern, C.K.,” said Mr. Percy. “Or mine.” Before sliding shut the door to the den, he added, “Besides, that meddlesome police officer said the PTA meeting was pushed to 5 p.m. Which means it’s already over. And look—”
Sounds from the TV.
“Right now they’re interrupting my gardening show with some news about your school,” said Mr. Percy. “Looks like the police have surrounded the area. Now they’re putting up that yellow do not cross tape.”
C.K. froze.
From the top of the steps, he was just barely able to hear some of the news report. Whatever was going on down at his school, it didn’t sound good.
“And there—” Mr. Percy went on. “Now they’re showing policemen escorting around six hundred catatonic parents out of the auditorium. The reporter lady says there has been some sort of incident. Now, what happened to my gardening show…?”
C.K. nearly dropped Mummy Mouse. “An incident at the PTA meeting?”
“Yes, an incident. It looks as though there are several hundred more victims of that strange illness that’s been going around—the same virus your mother caught. See? Didn’t I tell you it’s a good thing I don’t go to those silly PTA meetings?”
C.K. barely heard a word. Now he was the one practically paralyzed with fear.
“Now, no more chit-chat,” said Mr. Percy. “My gardening program is back on. Good night, C.K.” Mr. Percy had had enough family participation for one day. C.K.’s amazing ears picked up the sound of several latches being secured on the den door.
“Mummy Mouse?” whispered C.K. “Can I have a word with you, please?”
If he could see, C.K. would’ve noticed his very alive dead best friend smiling up at him with a decayed, satisfied grin. His eyes were glowing red like never before.
With a sickened feeling in his stomach, C.K. held his rotted best friend up so they were face to face.
“Mummy Mouse, how could you?” said C.K. “You went down to the PTA meeting and gorged yourself, didn’t you?”
WUHN- MAROOK
WUUUHN-MAROOOOK!
HAAL-AH-KEEEL-AHHL!
“Oh no…” C.K. said, full of woe. “One more is all you need?”
Understanding his decomposed friend perfectly well, C.K. was now aware that Mummy Mouse was just one life-force away from achieving god-like status.
With just one more life-force-sucking ritual, his task would be complete! Then he’d be able to unleash his wrath on mankind. And Mummy Mouse had already decided just who his final victim would be.
Mr. Percy.