“No termites,” the exterminator says. “Maybe a spot of woodworm. Nothing serious.”
“My wife thinks I’m imagining it, but I can hear them in the walls,” I say. “They keep me awake eating my house.”
“No vermin, no insects. Nothing.”
I send him away with a flea in his ear. Not that he’ll be able to find it.
I do my own research.
Maggie leaves me.
I use noxious chemicals but my sleepless nights are still soundtracked by chewing bugs.
I won’t let these vile creatures destroy my home.
I pour petrol all over the house and strike a match.
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A 100 word story (a drabble) written using a random word prompt “preoccupation”
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Bruce Arbuckle (felt.buzz)
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