Free Of Mice and Nutcrackers: A Peeler Christmas by Richard Scrimger

important call.” She carries her plate to the counter. She hasn’t eaten everything.
    Grandma sniffs. “Important call,” she says.
    “What’s Daddy getting for dinner?” I ask.
    “Soup,” she says. “Plain chicken soup out of a package. That’s all he wants.”
    Lucky Dad. Packaged chicken soup sounds pretty good.
    “Do you wish you had a cigarette now?” I ask Grandma.
    “Yes,” she says.
    “And do you really like hearing about your body falling apart?” asks Bernie.
    “No.”

The scariest thing happens to me that evening.
    My favorite thing to wear in the universe is a fluffy oversize vest I bought on sale for fifteen dollars. Under the vest I like to wear a dark green button-down shirt from the Goodwill and what they call end-user pants – the kind with lots of ties and zippers. I can’t find my vest or my end-users in my closet or dresser, or in the pile of dirty clothes that grows on the floor beside my bed. I haven’t worn them in a few days. Did Dad wash them? I go down to the laundry room to check.
    When I’m at the bottom of the basement stairs, I hear whispering behind and above me. The basement door shuts, leaving me in the dark.
    “Very funny, Bill!” I call.
    This isn’t the scary bit. I can hear him and Bernie giggling, and I know the basement light is two steps in front of me. There’s a long pull chain, dangling from the bare bulb in the ceiling. I walk forward in the darkand wave my arms about until I make contact with the string. I pull it, and everything jumps into focus.
    Our basement is unfinished. There’s a lot of exposed bricks and insulation and wires strung near the ceiling. A crib in the middle is filled with all kinds of junk we’ve outgrown. Washer, dryer, and laundry tub against one wall, with a pile of dirty laundry in front of them. Dresser against another wall – filled with more junk. Our old furnace crouches in the far corner, like a giant hunkered down for the winter, wheezing and grumbling. That’s about all there is in the basement, except dust and spiders, and I don’t mind either of them. And the single bulb with the pull chain.
    I find my end-users in the pile of dirty clothes, and they’re clean enough to wear. Good. I put them off to the side. I’m bent over again, hunting for my vest, when there’s a flash, and the light goes out.
    I freeze. It’s really dark. And quiet.
    Something moves away from me, rustling against things in the dark. “Bill, I can hear you!” I say.
    The rustling stops.
    “Hey!” I shout. No reply. “Hey!”
    I turn around and reach for the pull chain, but I can’t seem to find it. I flail around and lose a sense of where I am. You know how it is in the dark.
    There’s Bill again. I can hear him rustling ahead of me. Wait until I get my hands on him. I edge forward. And edge some more. And some more. And ….
    It’s taking me longer than I expect. I keep my hands out in front of me so I don’t bump into anything.
    Spiderwebs! Drat. I don’t mind them when I can see them, but I hate brushing against them in the dark. I wipe my face, and keep going, slowly, slowly….
    Ah! The pull chain. What a relief. I pull it and – nothing happens. Maybe Bill didn’t turn the light out. Does that mean I’m alone down here? “Bill?” I call, moving forward.
    I bump into something with my knee. Ouch! I reach out and touch the laundry tub. I thought I was by the staircase, but I’m nowhere near it. I’m in the wrong part of the basement.
    The rustling comes back. I freeze solid. In front of me is a wall. On the other side of the wall is Cisco’s house. No way could Bill be there. In front of me is just a wall.
    The noise is coming from there. From
inside
the wall. I scream.
    Screaming is like pouring ketchup from a full bottle. It may be hard to start, but once you’ve started screaming, it all comes out in a rush. You usually end up with too much, noise covering everything, pooling in the middle of the plate, running off