AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is my response to one of the most interesting writing prompts I’ve ever responded to: “An exterminator is called to a house for an infestation of memories. These memories are nested in the walls, chewing through the floorboards, and leaving droppings of half-forgotten faces everywhere. The exterminator gets to work…”
——–
Carl adjusted the radio as he drove. Being an exterminator wasn’t a bad job, just a little disgusting at times. He’d worked long enough – two years, to be exact – to think he’d seen it all. The only drawback was the bright green van he had to drive with the upside-down cockroach swaying on the top. The company was called The Bug Besties, who boasted “We’ll help you get rid of those ‘pesties’…no matter what’s ‘bugging’ you!”
Carl’s company cell phone rang and jangled him out of his thoughts. He turned down the radio. It was his dispatcher; he was certain of it, with another “emergency” assignment.
“Yes, Patricia, dear,” he answered. “Whatcha got for me?”
“A hysterical woman?”
He chuckled. “Many are when they’ve seen a bug. What’s the address?”
She spelled it out for him, but followed it with, “Be careful, Carl. She seems inconsolable.”
Carl scoffed and hung up. He turned the van around with a quick U-turn and headed in the opposite direction toward the latest crisis.
——–
When he was pulling up, Carl spied a middle-aged woman, pacing like a caged animal. She had her cell phone in her hand, and she seemed to be muttering. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and her face was pale and devoid of emotion.
“This isn’t so bad,” Carl said out loud as he parked. “She’s not that hysterical.”
“Hello, ma’am,” Carl greeted her as he exited the van. “What seems to be troubling you?”
She walked up to him like a zombie, as if she was all cried out.
“I-I have…an infestation…” she said blankly.
Carl nodded understandably, as he moved to the side of his van to get out his chemical tank. He placed it on the ground and started pumping it up. “Of?”
The lady continued. “My house is just teeming…,” she trailed off.
“With…?” Carl asked sternly.
The woman took a huge breath, as if stifling a sob. “It’s pregnant with…,” she began again.
“PESTS?” Carl demanded. “Roaches, rats, spiders…WHAT!?!”
“MEMORIES.”
Carl’s right eye started to twitch. Was this some kind of sick joke? “Lady, I don’t have time for this. I have actual, legit vermin to dispose of at other people’s houses. I just came here because you paid the emergency visit fee.”
She turned to him blankly and said, in a monotone voice, “I’ll pay triple if you get those horrendous memories out of my house,” she said. “I’ll even give you money under-the-table. Just make them go away!”
Whoa, thought Carl. That’s quite the offer…
Carl cleared his throat. “Ma’am, would it be okay if I called someone to help?” She simply nodded.
Carl pulled his phone out and went around the opposite side of his van. He decided to call the oldest and wisest exterminator they had: Edgar.
——–
“Hello?”
Carl cleared his throat. “Hey there, Edgar. Would you mind coming to the location I’ve been assigned to? I think I have a live one here.”
“Mmmm, okay? What’s going on, Carl?”
Carl tried to stifle a smile as he peered around his van to see the lady, with her back to him, standing with her arms crossed, staring at the ranch-style brick home.
“This lady seems to think that her house is infested with memories. She’s being quite weird, but states she’ll pay triple and tip us if we ‘remove’ them.”
Edgar was silent. “Ed?” Carl asked. “Are you still there?”
“Carl, what kind of memories did she say were there?”
“Uh, no? No, she didn’t. What difference does that make?”
“Ask. Her.”
Carl simply couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He breathed deeply and put the phone down by his side. “Ma’am?”
The lady turned, wide-eyed, to Carl. She was so disheveled and lost-looking. Dark circles piled under her eyes, and she nervously chewed at her fingers.
“What kind of memories…you know, like what type of memories are running around in that house?”
Tears started to stream from her eyes. “Lies. Neglect. Abuse. Loss. Death. Please, please make them go away. I need to sell this house and get away. I want my life back.”
Carl put his cell phone back up to his ear. Before he could ask Edgar if he’d heard what she said, Edgar replied with, “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” The call disconnected.
——–
Edgar pulled up in a similar green van, exactly seventeen minutes from the time that they hung up. He was an older man, with kind, crinkled eyes and very proper speech. He had been working at the pest control company since it opened. He came up to Carl and had two satchels with bulky objects in it. Edgar handed Carl a satchel and a water gun. It was at this point Carl thought he might be on Candid Camera. Edgar just nodded reassuringly.
“Ms. Young,” Edgar began. “We’re going to go in and rid you of these traumas, regrets, and nightmares. Can you show us where they’re especially manifested?”
The lady’s eyes got even bigger, and she started backing away. “I-I can’t do that. I can’t even go inside. They attack me and swarm me!” She started crying uncontrollably, holding herself.
Edgar nodded. “It’s fine, ma’am. Carl and I will take it from here.”
Once inside, Carl asked in a lowered voice. “Ed, what is all of this crap?”
Edgar said not a word, but pulled out containers of salt and started pouring them across doorways and around walls, especially under windows. He stopped what he was doing and looked at Carl to do the same. Carl found several cardboard cylinders of salt. As they poured, they could hear scratching and clawing. Scurrying could also be heard, as if mice were skittering across the floor. Instead of mouse turds, there were what looked like a confetti of faces cut from pictures. Edgar told Carl not to neglect the corners with the salt.
“What the hell is on the floor?” Carl started. Edgar shushed him.
“They’re remnants, scattered memories, Carl.”
They both heard scratching and gnawing in the walls. A shadow scampered from a closet, with no recognizable shape. Carl couldn’t make out what it was, but it ran in a very rodent-like manner.
“RATS!” Carl yelled.
Edgar held up his hand. He took the super-soaker water gun and started spraying the walls, from top to bottom.
“Edgar?”
“Just do what I do, Carl,” Edgar commanded. “The water guns have holy water with salt, rosemary, and rose petals in it. Repels ill spirits and bad juju.”
Carl scattered salt and then would stop and spray down walls. He could hear whispers, though mostly indiscernible. Sometimes he thought he could make out phrases.
He said he was sorry, one hissed. PLEASE! STOP! whispered another. Carl shivered, unsettled. Could this really be happening? Did he really just hear that?
They went room to room, alternating the salt pouring and water dousing. As they did so, the bad memories and ill-humors could be heard running and scurrying away, shrieking. After thirty minutes, Edgar went back to the front door and lit white sage, going from room to room with the sage bundle smoldering.
Carl shook his head as he looked incredulously at Edgar.
“Smudging,” Edgar said, as if that explained everything. After Edgar made two laps around the inside of the house with the burning sage, he instructed Carl to go get the canister vacuum out of his truck and to sweep all the salt and the destitute memories up. While Carl vacuumed, Edgar opened the windows. One of the picture faces stuck to Carl’s shoe, he discovered as he cleaned. He quickly kicked it off, repulsed by what he saw. It was a younger version of the lady’s bruised face! That made Carl sweep faster.
The entire process took an hour. Both men came out, tired from their efforts. The lady ran up, thanking them.
“Oh, my!” she exclaimed. “The house seems lighter.” She smiled in relief.
Edgar nodded. “Just shut the windows at dusk, so nothing troubling gets back in.” Edgar poured salt at the front door threshold and under windows, on the outside of the home. He then took out bells and rang them and went one lap around the property, bells clanging the entire time. The woman watched teary-eyed. Carl just stood there with his jaw clenched, shaking his head. He could not believe that he just witnessed AND participated in this sham.
As they were getting ready to leave, Edgar and Carl walked up to the woman.
“I don’t know how to repay you gentlemen!” she said, happily.
Before Carl could remind the woman of her monetary obligation, Edgar interrupted. “We were happy to help, ma’am. Have a peaceful evening.” He then looked hard at Carl, willing him, without speaking, to get back into his van. Carl followed Edgar.
“What the hell was that about, Edgar? She was going to pay us well.”
Edgar climbed up into his van and gave Carl a wry smile. “She already has paid, Carl. We just swept away her entire lifetime of bad memories. She’ll remember what happened,” Edgar continued. “It just won’t live in the walls or her heart anymore. If we don’t leave now, those bad things could attach to us, glued by our greed. Get in your van and go home. Shower with rose water body wash to wash away the bad luck. Don’t let it attach to you and infiltrate your life. Wash your work clothes, as you normally do, in vinegar. Add a pinch of salt.”
With a nod and a wink, Edgar drove away. Carl got in his van and drove to the bar. If there was any bad luck attached to him, he was going to try to kill it with alcohol.
It was then that he thought he almost preferred cockroaches and mice to traumas and flashbacks. What he just participated in was just too crazy to wrap his mind around. As he was driving, he thought he heard something in the van with him. Gnawing? Tiny scratching?? Inaudible whispers??? Carl raised an eyebrow, then turned the radio on and cranked the volume up until he couldn’t hear the disturbing noises anymore. There. That was better.
This was written by our contributing writer, Laura Moseley.
Image Source: Pexels, Вячеслав Ткачёв
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