Six-year-old Jack and his little sister, Sue, thought it was the crime of the century! They were supposed to be in bed while their parents held the party. Instead, they were hiding in the dark master bedroom beside the king mattress, which was piled high with guests’ coats.
Stifling giggles, they crouched lower at the sound of approaching footsteps. The door opened, the music and chatter became louder, and someone walked in. They heard Dad calling from the living room. “Hurry up, Larry,” he said. “I want to hear all about your new lady.”
“Be right there,” Larry replied, dropping his overcoat on the bed. He clicked the door shut behind him. The party sounds became muted.
“That was close!” Jack said.
Sue took the overcoat off the bed and wrapped it around herself. “Look at me. I’m Uncle Larry.”
“Take that off,” Jack ordered her. “You look silly.”
“Silly is fun.”
“Take it off!”
“Why should I listen to you?”
“Because I’m your big brother.”
Sue extricated herself from the coat. She put it back on the pile just as they heard the sound of footsteps again. It was their mother. She threw another coat on the bed. “I’ll be right back, dear,” she called. “I found the most charming wine the other day. You must have a glass.”
Both kids breathed a sigh of relief as she left. “I feel like a spy,” Jack said.
Sue looked at the pile of coats. “How many grown-ups are coming to this party?”
“Lots,” Jack answered. “Did you see all the food in the refrigerator?”
“Smelly fish. Yuck!”
“Adults like it.” An idea came to him, and a Grinchy smile grew on his face. “I wonder if anybody left money in their coats.”
“You wouldn’t take it?” his sister asked, shocked.
“Why not? They’d never miss it.”
“That’s not honest.”
“Think of what we could do with some money.”
“What?”
“We could buy stuff – fun stuff – like toys and games.”
“You can do that with money?”
“Sure you can. How do you think we get presents on our birthdays and Christmas?”
“Santa,” the little girl said bluntly.
“Besides him.”
“Money?”
“Uh huh. We could buy cheeseburgers and. . . and ice cream.”
“And chicken nuggets?”
“Sure – lots of them.”
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to look,” Sue agreed after brief contemplation.
Together, they started checking. Seconds later, they heard a voice that made them jump. It was deep, guttural, and seemed to be coming from under the coats. “I’m in here,” it said.
“Who was that?” Sue asked, alarmed.
“It’s me. . . money. I’m waiting for you.”
“Under the coats?” Jack asked.
“That’s right.”
“Money can. . . talk?”
“Of course.”
“How?” Sue inquired.
“What does money look like?” the voice asked.
“It’s green with pictures of people on it.”
“And those people have mouths, right?”
“Sure.”
Jack paused for a moment and added, “It makes sense.”
“I would love,” the voice continued, “to be spent on fun things. Can you help me?”
Sue was eager to assist. “What do we need to do?”
“I’m way in here. The grown-ups hid me so you kids wouldn’t find me.”
“I knew it!” Jack exclaimed. “How do we get to you?”
“Climb up on the bed – quick – before anyone comes in.” Both of the children did so, Jack giving his little sister a helping hand. “Now get way under the coats so no one can see you. That’s where you’ll find me. Then we can have fun.”
“Here goes!” Sue said with a giggle as she and her brother crawled under the coats.
“Deep now. Deep!” the voice advised them. “Make it so no one can see even your toes.” The kids did as instructed, visions of delicious treats swirling in their minds.
“All done,” Jack announced.
“Me too,” Sue added.
“Excellent,” the voice said, pleased.
“Where are you?” Jack asked.
“Right. . . here.” The loud chewing sounds muffled the kids’ screams. Before long, the voice audibly swallowed and intoned, “Fun!”
#
Dad handed Larry his overcoat. “It looks like rain,” Mom added.
“It’s so quiet now,” Larry observed.
“We’re pretty set back from the road,” Dad explained.
“That’s one of the things that attracted us to this house,” his wife added. “After working in town all day, it’s nice to come home to peace and quiet.”
Larry chuckled. “My apartment sounds like a war zone by comparison.”
“The previous owner said the house likes quiet. Can you imagine?”
“A house can like something?”
“I’m afraid the old gent was a little off his rocker,” Dad went on. “His sister had to have him committed. He hardly ever made a peep. He said he was keeping things quiet so the house would be happy.”
“Too bad for him, but you really got a sweet deal.”
“We’re very happy here.”
“I’m surprised Jack and Sue didn’t wake up with all the party noise.”
Confused, Dad looked at his better half. “Who?”
“Jack and. . .” Larry stopped speaking as a sudden wave of nausea came and then left him.
“Are you OK?” Mom asked.
“Just fine.”
“You looked ill for a second.”
“It was nothing,” he told his hosts. “I. . . I forget what I was saying,” he added with a shrug. “Senior moment in progress, huh?”
“I could drive you home,” Dad offered.
“No thanks. Strange thing though: I’m usually not forgetful.”
“You’re probably tired,” Mom suggested.
“You’re right,” Larry agreed. “Whatever it was, it’ll come to me later.”
“Maybe,” Mom said. “Let us know if it does.”
—
Mike has had over 150 audio plays produced in the U.S. and overseas. He’s won The Columbine Award and a dozen Moondance International Film Festival awards in their TV pilot, audio play, short screenplay, and short story categories. His prose work has appeared in several magazines and anthologies. Mike is the writer of two short films, DARK CHOCOLATE and HOTLINE. In 2013, he won the inaugural Marion Thauer Brown Audio Drama Scriptwriting Competition. In 2020, he came in second. For several of the in-between years, he served as a judge.
Mike keeps a blog at audioauthor.blogspot.com.
Cover art by Dennis Sylvester Hurd (Flikr Creative Commons)
