Chirp Chirp
By Tony Rauch
There is a scratching at the window, a gnawing that wakes me. I lie in bed and listen. It is a kind of sawing sound. I jump out of bed, stumble, and press myself against the window. A gray morning fog covers all. A branch-like thing sweeps past, swinging down to swipe past my view. Then another flashes by in the silvery mist. I struggle, looking around, but can’t see what it is. A grisly “chirp - chirp” sound scratches from the distance. Through the gray cloudy morning I make out grotesque skeletal shadows across the street. It could be a tree falling over, maybe a branch blew over and hit our house. Maybe it’s an uprooted tree rolling down the block. But as I study it, shadows waving from behind the house across the street, clouds of fog rolling and twisting by, I think, it could be, . . . Holy cow, it is . . . a giant ant appears! A giant ant scratching and gnawing on the corner of the house across the street. The ant is gigantic - the size of a large horse! It is ripping away at the siding, trying to break through. “Stop! Stop!” I pound on the window with both fists. And just then the giant, hairy arm of another flashes by my window, sweeping low through the fog as the stomach-turning “chirp - chirp” thunders louder, splitting the calm, morning mist.
I turn to the hall and shout, “Ma, looks like we got ourselves an ant problem!”
- - -
Tony Rauch has three books of funky/jazzy/arty short stories out, "I'm right here," from Spout Press, and "Laredo," and “Eyeballs growing all over me . . again” from Eraserhead Press (some dark and gothic, some kinda sci-fi, some absurdist, some experimental, some fairytale, some fantasy-ish, some dream-like and surreal, some whimsical, some social satire).
By Tony Rauch
There is a scratching at the window, a gnawing that wakes me. I lie in bed and listen. It is a kind of sawing sound. I jump out of bed, stumble, and press myself against the window. A gray morning fog covers all. A branch-like thing sweeps past, swinging down to swipe past my view. Then another flashes by in the silvery mist. I struggle, looking around, but can’t see what it is. A grisly “chirp - chirp” sound scratches from the distance. Through the gray cloudy morning I make out grotesque skeletal shadows across the street. It could be a tree falling over, maybe a branch blew over and hit our house. Maybe it’s an uprooted tree rolling down the block. But as I study it, shadows waving from behind the house across the street, clouds of fog rolling and twisting by, I think, it could be, . . . Holy cow, it is . . . a giant ant appears! A giant ant scratching and gnawing on the corner of the house across the street. The ant is gigantic - the size of a large horse! It is ripping away at the siding, trying to break through. “Stop! Stop!” I pound on the window with both fists. And just then the giant, hairy arm of another flashes by my window, sweeping low through the fog as the stomach-turning “chirp - chirp” thunders louder, splitting the calm, morning mist.
I turn to the hall and shout, “Ma, looks like we got ourselves an ant problem!”
- - -
Tony Rauch has three books of funky/jazzy/arty short stories out, "I'm right here," from Spout Press, and "Laredo," and “Eyeballs growing all over me . . again” from Eraserhead Press (some dark and gothic, some kinda sci-fi, some absurdist, some experimental, some fairytale, some fantasy-ish, some dream-like and surreal, some whimsical, some social satire).
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