The stillness is disquieting – not even a television or a radio. Even the cat is quietly napping on the couch, oblivious to the menace in the kitchen. But I can see it, trying to hide behind the table, hypnotizing me with its steel-eyed stare. I turn my eyes away, refusing to surrender to its power.
Carefully, one quiet step at a time, I creep into the kitchen, inching as far away from the monster as possible, keeping it at bay with my peripheral vision. I quickly grab a weapon from the wall. Thus armed, I face the horror by the table. I hit it once, twice, three times. I hit it again, over and over. I rub it into the floor. I hit it again, until it is dead, dead, dead! Then I rub it again to get rid of the remains.
I bring my weapon into the bathroom and silently clean it under the faucet in the bathtub.
I have finally gotten rid of that grease stain on the kitchen floor.