find her. He would call and call, his schizophrenic shouts both angry and cajoling. Sometimes, when he reminded her of all the good times, she would begin to leave her haven. It was the screams of the dust bunnies that held her back…
…kept her safe.
…those wonderful fluffy dust bunnies.
Finding out where the woman lived was easy. Her name tag had said Tracy. Even better was her discovery that the staff at the restaurant had their own parking spaces. It was only half an hour of delving through glove compartments and under the seats that resulted in a silver Cellica with an old cable bill that promised a Tracy Wilson lived on 234 East King Street.
The address was only a mile away.
When Elsie arrived, she was pleased to discover a doggy door at the back of the house. At five foot and one hundred pounds, her slim body fit easily through—the major reason she had been promoted to domestic duty.
Of course, the problem with doggy doors is that it meant…
Halfway through she came nose to nose with a brindle bulldog. An immense head boasted very thick teeth from a dog who was eager to show them to her. Bulldog drool glistened along its jowls and dripped upon the floor, each drip a promise of how tasty she could be. Elsie stared into the animal's eyes and after about a minute, she pushed the dog aside, scooted the rest of the way in on her knees and stood.
"That's right, big boy. I'm a friendly."
She’d always been a dog person. When she was married she had a friend who raised Dobermans for a guard service. After Elsie's first time in the pen, she wasn't allowed in again. She’d ruined the litter, infecting it with love. As a Dust Bunny it was even better. The animals smelled the nature upon her. Free of the cloying smell of perfume, soap, and other toxic chemicals, dogs, with their super-human olfactory sense, appreciated her stoic imperfection.
Elsie patted the dog and took in the bottom floor. She’d known what she would encounter before she had arrived. A kitchen, dining room and living room in immaculate, Better Homes and Gardens condition. Everything shouted out perfection. It was a place that Miss Manners, Gloria Vanderbilt and the First Lady could easily transplant themselves into. It was sad how so many men dictated to their women that the lifestyles of Leave It To Beaver and Ozzie and Harriet should be emulated.
Even the garage was dress-right-dress. Elsie imagined the repercussions that Tracy faced if anything was out of place in the house.
…a dirty plate?
…SMACK…
…an unmade bed?
…SMACK…
A house ruled by a man who’d fallen for the great lie: Cleanliness is next to Godliness.
It was mankind who insisted upon order. Nature dictated chaos. If God created both, which should be the dominant? Elsie knew that the question wasn't rhetorical. Man existed within nature, therefore man should be part of the environment within which he was created. Ajax, Clorox, and Spic–N–Span were created by man to put order to nature — to change nature.
Nature is dirty.
The world is dirty.
Nature is natural.
There were lengths of boards stacked neatly along one side of the garage, leaving space for only one vehicle. The wood came in many sizes: ten, six, five and four feet. Each one was treated with a slick polyurethane coating, as if it was meant to be waterproof.
Elsie halted amidst her inventory. She heard the sound of a car entering the driveway and the garage door began ascending. Grabbing a four-foot length of two-by-four, she slipped into the house and ascended to the second floor. It was in the master bedroom where she slipped under the bed and began her wait. As the front door opened and slammed, she lamented the fact that there were very few dust bunnies. She would speak to them. Tell them of their brethren and entice them to multiply.
Two hours later, Tracy came home.
Half an hour after that, he hit her…
…three times, because there were spots on the glasses.
Elsie heard it all from her space within The Land of the Under-bed.
…the yelling.
…the screams.
…the cries of pain.
If it hadn't been for the warnings of the dust bunnies, Elsie would have unleashed her anger right then. Even now, she gripped the two-by-four with whitened knuckles waiting for the night to fall so she would reveal her response. For now, however, she would lay within The Land of the Under-bed and whisper tales of her past deeds to the dust bunnies, petting and