Bill backed away from the General Store, turned the truck around, drove across the small parking lot, across the narrow cobblestone road and down a slight incline to the front of the lighthouse.
He sat in the truck and looked at the lighthouse.
"Absolutely beautiful," he gasped, as he opened the door of the truck and stepped outside.
He turned and looked back across toward the General Store. He laughed slightly at the fact that he could have probably walked to the lighthouse faster, than the time it took him to drive. But his whole life was in the truck, so it was a necessity.
Bill looked to his left and saw a stone path that led to a smaller cottage style house, about a hundred or so feet pass the lighthouse.
"Must be my neighbour," he commented aloud. He made a mental note to visit the neighbour, once he got settled.
Bill reached back into his truck and pulled a keyring, filled with keys, from the center console. He closed the door to the truck and examined the keyring, that Dave Wells had given him the day before.
He walked to the front door of the house, while examining the keys.
"Which one, I wonder?"
One by one he looked at the keys, but neither seemed to be a match for the old style lock on the front door.
"Well that sucks," he spat, popping the keys in the pocket of his sweatpants.
He pushed gently on the door, but it did not budge.
"Now what will I do?" he wondered, as he walked around the corner of the house.
"Maybe there is a window open."
The first window he tried was solid, but the second one swung open easily.
Bill smiled. "Well I'll be damned."
Though the window was open, the lowest point of the window was near Bill's upper chest and given his complete lack of physical dexterity, he decided that to avoid an embarrassing situation, he would have to find something to stand on, to get to the window and hopefully be able to crawl inside.
He had hoped to find a ladder, but that was not to be. Instead, he did find a small wooden barrel, near the far corner of the house.
"Perfect," he smiled, as he walked to the barrel.
Bill bent down and attempted to lift the barrel, but it would not move. Bill noticed the grass growing tightly around the perimeter of the barrel.
"Looks like this has been here a while."
He pushed it with his hand, with no result.
He then gave it a gentle kick.
Nothing.
He kicked a little harder.
Still nothing.
"Give me a fucking break," he barked in anger, as he gave the barrel a solid kick.
"Fuccccckkkkkkk," Bill screamed as he hopped around on his left foot, trying to keep the extremely painful right foot off the ground. He had learned a lesson in not kicking wooden barrels while wearing running shoes. Unless of course they had steel toes.
Which Bill's did not.
Finally Bill made it to the barrel and with some effort, managed to sit on it. He took off the right running shoe and began massaging his toes. The small toe was especially painful and Bill had a growing fear that he may have actually broken it.
For almost five minutes, he sat there massaging his foot. Eventually the pain subsided. Bill let out a little sigh of relief as he was assured that a trip to the emergency ward of the nearest hospital, would not be necessary.
He gently put his foot back on the ground and leaned back, to rest against the house.
At least that was his intention.
He realized, too late, that he was actually sitting adjacent to the house and at that exact moment, the earth beneath the barrel decided to relinquish its hold on the wooded receptacle.
Bill went flying backwards, hitting the ground hard and knocking the wind out of him.
"Fuck me," he muttered, as he lay there, gasping for breath.
He pushed the barrel away from him and lay on the ground. he closed his eyes, as he continued to gasp for his breath, while wondering why he wasn't actually sitting on the veranda, of a condo, in Jamaica, sipping a margarita and watching the beautiful bathing beauties on the beach.
The beach image quickly disappeared, as Bill got the sensation of tiny little feet walking up his chest.
Slowly, oh so slowly, he opened one eye.
"RATTTTTTTT," he screamed, as he saw two beady red eyes staring at him.
He jumped to his feet, swatting at the rat, that was no longer on his chest. He looked around for some kind of weapon, to fight off the horrible, vile beast. The only thing near, was his running shoe, that he had taken off earlier.
He dove toward the running shoe, grabbed it and got back to his feet as quickly as he could. He scanned the area for the rat, but it was no where to be found.
"Where are you?" he wondered, as he peered at every possible hiding place.
He was about to put the running shoe back on when he heard a high pitched squeak, like the mocking laughter of some mutated giant rat, about to strike.
He turned slowly and screamed. The huge creature was now sitting on the overturned barrel, staring at him and assuredly, laughing.
Bill flung the running shoe at the vile creature, but once again his complete lack of coordination failed him and the shoe flew far over the creature's head and through the open window.
The creature reared up on its hind legs.
All 4 inches of it.
Bill could feel his face burning and he was sure he was turning a dozen shades of red. He just hoped that no one was near to observe the spectacle.
His mind assured him that, indeed, the vile beast was no more than a tiny field mouse, but the man inside had to seek confirmation that his actions, as ridiculous as they were, were actually justified.
Given the circumstances.
Bill waved at the creature.
"Shoo! Shoo! You baby rat. Shoo!"
The baby rat/field mouse jumped off the barrel and disappeared around the corner of the house.
Bill swore that the creature was laughing at him.
Again the image of a condo in Jamaica flashed in his head.
Bill walked to the wooden barrel and pushed it with his left foot, examining the area around the barrel carefully, lest there be more mutant rodents hiding.
When he was satisfied that all danger had passed, he picked up the barrel and walked to the open window.
He lay the barrel on the ground, upright and carefully lifted himself up on it, holding on to the window sill to keep his balance. He did not cherish the thought of another visit to Mother Earth.
When he was assured that it was safe, he readied himself to hop upwards and crawl through the open window.
Just as he was ready, a sound to his right made him turn.
"Hello."
Once again Bill screamed, lost his balance and despite his fondest wishes, he did indeed visit Mother Earth again.
Once again he lay on the ground gasping for breath.
And for the unknown number of times that day ...
he nearly shit his pants.