The Project | The Ink Well Weekly Fiction Writing: Prompt: 31 and FLASH FICTION CONTEST

In the small, dimly lit room, I sat shaking my head. The conversation didn't make any sense. I placed my hands over my ears. I didn't want to hear the accusations. Suddenly I screamed, "I told him I didn't like doing that kind of thing. For twenty years I told him I didn't like doing that. But he finally convinced me to do it. Why would someone who supposedly loves me attempt such a dangerous undertaking and then threaten me with dire consequences if I didn't go along?"

Two officers, one male, the other, female, stared at me. Out of the corner of my eye, their facial expressions indicated disbelief.

Officer Duncan, a female, frowned, pressed her mouth together, then stated, "Mrs. Bungling, just relax and tell what happened. Try to provide as much details as possible."

My voice cracked before I began.

"Let's see. Saturday morning. Mr. B, my husband, woke early to start the project. When the time came, I followed his exact instructions. I didn't want to mess up. He got on his knees and opened the entrance to the water heater. When the curtain moved, I felt a creeping sensation and gasped. I remember feeling weak. Then Mr. B grabbed my leg, and told me to get a grip on myself.

Next, he ordered me to find something to hit with. I grabbed the first thing I saw.

He told me whatever happened to continuing hitting. You can see I'm not tall, so he said to swing high and apply as much force as I could.

He didn't want the rats to get inside. He'd have to tear down the rest of the drywall. Spending extra money for a complete gutting to clean out those dead rats was something he wanted to avoid."

I rolled my eyes, then added this final bit. "He's the self-proclaimed expert. For a reasonable price with Yellow Pages coupons, professionals could have been consulted. But you see, he was cheap as hell."

The male officer slammed his fist on the table. "Are you trying to say your husband told you to hit with that object? Mrs. Bungling, are you and your husband on good terms?"

I frowned. Not understanding the reason for that stupid question, I answered what I thought was pertinent. "I'm saying, he told me that, once he gave the order, I needed to hit with whatever I could find. I did just that. Period."

I could tell the male officer was agitated. "Mrs. Bungling, do you know where your husband is right now? Well, he's in the hospital fighting for his life."

Did I hear correctly? Hospital! I sat up straight, eyes round as nickels, stunned as my heart beat faster at the news. "What's wrong with Mr. B? He was fine before we started the project."

"You're the reason he's in the hospital, Mrs. Bungling," Officer Duncan replied, in a more conciliatory tone."

Me? All I did was follow instructions. I was crying now, upset they were accusing me of hurting Mr. B.

"Do you know how serious the charges are? Your husband is accusing you, among other things, of harboring past resentments and reckless behavior. Now, I'm going to ask you once more. What happened?" the male officer barked.

"And once more, I don't know what you're talking about. When I saw the horde of rats flying out the back of the water heater, I panicked. They covered the entire floor. I just continued to hit in all directions, finally chasing them outside. I was determined to hit as many as I could. Did the rats get to him?"

I was exhausted recounting all the details. Once outside, I remembered more. I was waiving the heavy brush broom in my hand. I did notice several neighbors standing in their yards pointing at me. The commotion must have caused a stir. I was distraught. I couldn't think straight. Then the police arrived and placed me in their car.

I looked at my watch. It was getting late. Another person entered the room. He reached papers to Officer Duncan. She read them silently, looked at her partner, then frowned at me.

"Mr. Bungling's statement of what happened paints a different story. He contends that he was behind the water heater on his knees. When the rats poured out, he jumped up. The broom hit him on the forehead several times. He stumbled backward and crashed through the sliding glass door. Disoriented, he fell on the stones. Luckily his arm caught the rails and kept him from falling into the pool. He presumed that's when he passed out. And you didn't help. The neighbors called us seeing you floundering around in the yard. Upon arrival, we searched the house. That's when we found him and rendered aid."

"I don't know what you're talking about. The last time I saw Mr. B, he was fine. All I know is that incessant barking."

"The dog? Is that what set you off?"

"Dog? My goodness no. Mr. B. All day every day. Why don't you do this or that? Why can't you help with my projects? And he calls me worthless. Well, as a handyman, he's worthless!"

"I don't think what Mr. B is accusing me of is a crime. Besides, I have more important things to do. I need to call a plumber and electrician to repair that hole in the wall and straighten out those wires. Should have done that years ago."

I focused on my next mission. I looked up at Officer Duncan and smiled. I knew she would understand. Finally, no more incessant barking. I asked whether I could go home. Getting hungry, I pulled from my purse the granola bar.

I was instructed that I could leave, but to make myself available if needed. I nodded, thanked them, and went home. It was a harrowing day I'll never forget fooling with that project!