2 weeks passed and it happened again. Mr. Billy got so mad that he lifted up his chair and started smashing it against the floor because something was under there but didn’t know what it was. At one point, he slammed the chair so hard that 2 of the chair legs just flew right off the chair. He didn’t care about anything. He just wanted that thing dead and out of his house. He started to swear and make all these stupid gestures until he turned around and noticed a hole at the bottom of the front door. He got so frustrated that his face already started to turn purple and he was beginning to sweat. For a brief moment, he sat on the chair that he had broken off earlier. He looked like he was thinking hard about something. After about 3 minutes, he got back up, went to the kitchen, and brought back a broom. Then, he stood tall as if he were a soldier. Then, he started smashing everything that was in his way. He shattered all the pictures, tore all the pages of his books, and cracked all the bulbs with his bare hands. Then he raced to the kitchen, threw all the dishes down, banded all the forks and spoons, and pushed the refrigerator to the ground. Now he started to rampage from the bedrooms downstairs, to the bathrooms upstairs. He was demolishing everything in his path as if he were a Tyranasorous eating everything up. People started to wonder what in the world was going on. After an hour of ruckus, he stopped everything. Everything was a pile of black dust. He had no house but he didn’t seem to care at the moment. He lifted up the rug and he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was so innocent and so small. Brown fur and a bushy tail. It was a chipmunk, just lying on its back and rubbing its fat stomach. Then, the chipmunk just raced off down the street and now, Mr. Billy was cold, hungry, and had no home.
Under the rug
November 11, 2009