Whisper

66

I went back to the kitchen and looked at the damage.

It was as though someone had set off a bomb and then finished destroying the place by hand.

I took a deep breath, fighting back the tears.

"Why, Whisper?"

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There was no answer.

I didn't expect there to be.

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"Why would you do this to me?"

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I went to the basement and got some empty boxes and packing tape. My workshop was a complete mess, but I managed to find what I needed.

Garbage bags were not going to work, not that it would have made any difference, anyway. The bags were all torn to pieces.

I decided I would simply sweep up all the broken glass and wasted food and shovel it in boxes. There was no use even searching through the mess.

I would just replace everything.

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As I walked back into the kitchen, I remembered my cats. As I cleaned up, I did find a couple cans of food, that were only dented. At least they would have something to eat. I didn't call them immediately, because I did not want them walking through all the broken glass and such.

I just hoped that they were still in the house.

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I had just put the last shovelful of garbage in a box, when I saw them both, gingerly walking up the hallway.

I called out to them and they came running.

It felt good to have them with me. I picked each one up and kissed their heads and held them for a moment.

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"You guys must have been terrified," I comforted them, as I scooped their food in their dented bowls.

I petted them as they ate.

"I promise I will get you both some treats, as soon as I get this mess cleaned up. Maybe even a nice steak, rare, just as you like it."

I poured them some water in a slightly crushed plastic container and went back to work.

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I had the kitchen pretty much cleaned up, except for washing the floor. I decided that could wait.

"I might even bring in some people from the village to help," I muttered to myself.

I looked at the damaged kitchen cupboards. I decided that I would wait until Bobby and Jessie came back to do the repairs. No one else would understand what had happened.

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As I brought the last box of garbage, from the kitchen, outside, to the veranda, I found a can of beer. It had rolled to a corner and was under a coat that I moved.

As soon as I broke the seal on the can, it sprayed all over me and the walls, but at this point, I did not even care. The beer was piss warm, but tasted good.

I finished it, crushed the can and threw it in a box.

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I took a deep breath and headed to the living room. It was a complete mess.

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Every book was pulled from the shelves and lay in heaps on the floor. Unbelievably, only a couple were damaged. I found it a little strange that she had not destroyed the books, as well, but I attributed it to her love of reading and maybe somehow, in her fury, she had the where with all, not to destroy.