Under the Rug

May 31, 2013
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You could say Henry Forner was a paranoid guy, but you would be wrong. He was not paranoid, simply cautious. Why did he put so many locks on the doors? Well, haven’t you heard all the stories of break-ins in the area? Why were all the windows blacked out? Nosy neighbors of course. Why did he always stay locked inside his house with only his cat, Patch, for company? With the pollution these days, if he stepped a foot outside he was sure to get sick and die. You see old Henry was not paranoid in the least, simply cautious.
And so you can understand that when the lump started to appear in his rug he got a bit nervous. Well not at first; he thought it just Patch playing in the dark. It would move around every once in a while in a playful sort of way and then stop again.
One day as the lump moved, it knocked over a small table and the lamp came crashing to the floor. Henry was not about to let Patch get away with this, so he went over to scold little Patch. As he was lifting the rug off the floor, Patch came slinking into the room from the kitchen. Henry was so surprised it did not register that the cat was not under the rug like he had imagined. He pulled the rug away and what lay beneath it was something so horrible, so grotesque, that I cannot even begin to write it down.
He lay the rug back down and ran quickly from his house. He went next door to get Mr. Welps, who was as surprised as anyone would be if their hermit neighbor dragged them back to see the strange creature under the rug. When they reached the living room the lump was no longer there. Mr. Welps was not very happy to have been taken away from his TV late at night to see nothing, so he grumbled as he walked out the door.

Two weeks passed and it happened again. The lump appeared under the rug and knock over the table once more. Now, Henry was not an uneducated man and knew that if he were to bring someone else over to see, the lump would just disappear again. He knew he had to deal with this himself.
So, he grabbed a chair from his dining room table, lifted it above his head and brought it down hard on the unsuspecting lump. With a sickening crunch it was over and he sat back in his rocker and relaxed.

There is still a faded red stain where the deed took place, but you will no longer find Henry there. He now resides at the local insane asylum after Mr. Welps found Henry mumbling to himself in his rocking chair, his dead cat at his feet and a bloody chair at his dining room table.

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