Kafka.

"It's back up here again."

It's a hot July day and Mont's shirt is sticking to his chest because it's wet from the rain they just had the day before. The AC's out in Mont's truck so he's stuck with the windows rolled down and letting the place air out with the hot and muggy air of the day. Back at Thayer's Bug Killers! HQ, Mont told Judy, the receptionist whom he was working up the nerve to ask out, that it felt like an armpit today. She laughed and that made him feel good. So good he couldn't wipe the dumb grin he was carrying even if someone stuck a gun to his head and said, "Wipe that dumb grin off your face." He couldn't do it. On this clear hot, post-rain summer day he's drumming along (poorly) to the beat of Toto's "Can't Stand It Any Longer". He'd turn the station, but he's just classic enough to like Toto. That gets him thinking, I wonder if Judy likes Toto? He doesn't think he could fall in love with someone who doesn't like at least "Africa".

Mont's a thick man, his smile's big but his temper's bigger. His fists are pretty red from all the years of using the set he's got, and he's not easy to gross out. What, being in the Marines and now working for Thayer---- he can't afford to be "grossed out" easily.

The call he's heading to is Kafka, Philip K. A new customer who simply left a message that said, "It's back in the walls again." They put Mont on it because he was (one of) their best.

He had wanted to stay at Thayer's and talk to Judy a bit longer, but he knew she wouldn't like a man who was late or neglected his work, so he went.

Mont turns left onto the right street, he checks the GPS readout above the radio and it says he's heading the right way, so he makes an immediate right on this road into a nice little collection of homes called CONGREGATION HOMES. Mont smiles and wonders if he'd live in a place like this if he were married, and that gets him thinking about Judy again.

"You have a-rrived at your des-tination," comes the stale voice of the GPS.

The house looks like it should have kids running and screaming in the front yard ---- or, at least, that's how Mont sees it ---- but it's run-down. Patches of weeds growing in the dirt-lawn, a tree wilted and dead, drooping to the side and all of its leaves in a pile underneath the drooping branches. There's rust at the corners of the garage door and the numbers to the corner of the garage door are tilted and graying from time. The car marked THAYER'S BUG KILLERS! pulls up to the curb in front of the house and the driver looks out at the run down house.

Mont says aloud, "No wonder somethin's in the walls in that dump."

Kafka's an old man with a bald head and hair clinging to the back of his head, and the attitude of a man who can't hear and doesn't want anyone to know he can't hear them. He's grumpy, but he's also eager to be rid of the "thing." That's how he introduces himself to Mont.

"Well, Mr. Kafka. May I check out where the thing in the wall is?"

"Your damn people tell you? It's on the second floor. Didn't I say that? I said that."

Mont pulls out his phone and reads the transcript of the call Judy sent him. He just says, "Oh, you're right. You said it was 'up here.' Did you mean the second floor or this floor? Because those look like stairs to a basemen----"

"Don't go in my basement!"

Mont was taken aback by his sudden yelling. "No one's gonna go into your basement. Show me the thing."

The bedroom's a mess. Journals are all over the floor, and it smells bad. Mont screws up his face, but let's a smile go when Kafka turns to face him pointing at a hole in the wall. Mont touches the wall. It's damp. Mont grimaces and looks to Kafka, but he's gone. He pulls out his flashlight and looks down the hole. He's taken aback.