APPRECIATION

The mice were in the bottom drawer.
‘I’m not your mother,’ I said when I saw them there.
They moved as a group from the the drawer to the floor over to the bed and out of the window I’d left open for my own escape.
I sat on a chair in the middle of the room and watched as one of my feet turned into a rat that, when the change was complete, I hit, with the hammer my left hand had become, until where my foot had once been there was a bloody mess.
She came in through the door was opposite where I sat and said, ‘what have you done?’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘last night you said my toenails were scratching your leg so I was doing something about it.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I appreciate the effort.’