crumbs
an excerpt

CRUMBS (a working title)

Chapter One

An Unwelcome Visitor

There was a faint voice following Louis Pigman around the house. Twenty minutes ago, while he read by the fireplace, he had first heard it-- soft, low, male. His wife, Magda Pigman, had looked up from her magazine, adjusting her spectacles.
“Did you hear something?” she asked her husband.
It was then that Mr. Pigman set out in search of The Voice. He checked the kitchen—under the sink, in the pantry—and then in all of the bedrooms. It seemed the house was empty, except for Mr. and Mrs. Pigman, of course, and their cocker spaniel, Cosmo. Who, by the way, was tearing apart leftover pieces of their liver dinner.
Mr. Pigman found dead roaches in the shower drain, another oddity. There were twenty—maybe thirty—all clustered together near the drain, belly-up. Being sewer roaches, they were two to three inches long, and some had thin little wings. He instinctively closed the shower door and went in search of cleaning materials. Should he throw them in the trash? Just simply flush them down the drain? Would they even go down the drain? Maybe just throw them in the toilet? How did they all get there?
Mr. Pigman had no idea that the roaches would be the least of his worries. If Mr. and Mrs. Pigman had only gone to their country cottage for the weekend, as Mrs. Pigman had suggested earlier that day, maybe things could have turned out differently for the quaint Northeastern village, Tulip, where the Pigmans lived. Heavy rain began to fall on the roof as Mr. Pigman retraced his footsteps back to the bathroom.
There, again.
The Voice.
Mr. Pigman could not be mistaken this time. What was it saying? It was gradually getting louder, and though he couldn’t make out any words, he knew it was the voice of a man. He turned his gray head, trying to listen. The rain continued, growing with intensity, the raindrops clattering the windows, the wind rattling the old house, making it impossible to hear anything now except the thunderstorm brewing outside.
“Are all the windows shut?” called Mrs. Pigman from the study. “It sounds like hail!”
No, it wasn’t hail, but a heavy, menacing rain. Again, Mr. Pigman found himself searching throughout the house—but this time, for open windows. In the hall closet, he found two flashlights and a candle in case the power went out. In the bedroom, he grabbed himself a sweater to block out the chill of the rain.
Knock, knock, knock. The back door.
Mr. Pigman checked his watch, squinting his aging eyes, ten-thirty. A little late for visitors, thought Mr. Pigman. He pulled on the long-sleeve blue sweater. There stood a pleasant-looking man. He had a full head of fluffy brown hair, and a young face with large, wide-set eyes. He appeared to be carrying some sort of briefcase. He was wet from head to toe.
Mr. Pigman opened the door. “Hello?” he said, opening it wide enough to fully examine the visitor. “Can I help you?”
The visitor had a wide, toothy grin, and appeared apologetic. “Thank you so much for answering the door!” he exclaimed. “My car has broken down. And, you know—this rain—I just can’t seem to get it started. Do you have a phone I could use? I’ve just arrived in town to visit my brother.”
“Of course,” Mr. Pigman answered, smiling back. “Would you like a clean towel to dry off? Some hot tea?” The young man stepped inside the house, wiping his black boots on the welcome mat. Cosmo came running from around the corner, hopping and growling in his direction.
“Cosmo!” Mr. Pigman scolded, then looked back at the young man. “He doesn’t like anybody.” The young man grinned again, showing his wide set of sparkling white teeth.
“That’s quite alright. I like dogs. Hi-ya, Cosmo,” he said, leaning down and patting the ground. Cosmo stopped yelping, but seemed unsure of this new visitor. Mr. Pigman took the visitor’s coat, and handed him a towel he had grabbed from the hall closet.
“I’m Louis Pigman,” he said, extending a hand.
“Wonderful to meet you,” said the young gentlemen, his eyes gleaming. “I’m Morrie Crumbs.” He rubbed the towel over his hair and dried off his face and hands.
“Louis? Who’s at the door?” called Mrs. Pigman from the study. Mr. Pigman whispered to Mr. Crumbs before replying, “my wife— Dear, it’s a young man to use the phone! A Mr. Morrie Crumbs.”
Together, they walked to the kitchen, where Mr. Pigman pointed to the phone and began to boil some hot water for tea. Mr. Crumbs smiled appreciatively and picked up the telephone, rapidly dialing a phone number. Mr. Pigman only partially eavesdropped. He heard something about the car problem, then pleasantries, then a – “Excuse me, what address am I at?” -- and Mr. Pigman told him. Mr. Crumbs finished up his phone call and explained, “My brother. He’s on his way to pick me up.”
“Hot tea?”
“Tea would be wonderful.”
So they moved to the study for tea. Mr. Crumbs was introduced to Mrs. Pigman, who commented on his fancy-looking shoes.
“You must be a city boy,” she decided, “with those business shoes. Where are you from, Mr. Crumbs?” She patted her curly grey hair.
Mr. Crumbs was smiling so big that Mrs. Pigman let out a laugh. “You are very insightful, Mrs. Pigman,” he said, “I am from a big city.”
Mr. Pigman sat quietly on the couch, looking outside. While some may think he was thinking about the rain, and how the heavy water might affect the season’s flowers, he was instead wondering how Mr. Crumbs found the door to their home.
You see, the Pigmans owned a flower shop, Season’s Best, just along the quaint, Main Street of Tulip. They were the largest florist in town and many of their customers came because the store was located inside a Tulip Historical Building-- part of an ancient castle. Although the main part of the castle had long been destroyed, the remnants of large, thick stones and mortar piled together, and low, arched doorways remained.
The Pigmans lived above their flower shop, but because most of the time they were downstairs at their business, and because of the ancient construction of the building, the only doorway to their home was through the front door of the flower shop.
Mr. Pigman considered this for a moment. When had he closed the store? He had adjusted the window display of sunflowers that afternoon and then prepared an order for an upcoming wedding celebration. He decided that he had locked the front door a little after closing time-- six o’clock. He had dinner with Mrs. Pigman shortly after, and then they had gone into the study to read. How had Mr. Crumbs found the door to their house, with the front door to the flower shop closed and locked?
Mr. Crumbs and Mrs. Pigman were in deep conversation about the planting season for tomatoes. Mr. Crumbs was a baker, Mrs. Pigman explained to Mr. Pigman, scolding him for not paying attention. He specialized in all kinds of pastries, sweets, and candies.
“Is that what you have in your suitcase?” Mr. Pigman asked. “Your candies?”
Mr. Crumbs laughed. “Yes, there are some candies in here. I never go anywhere without a batch! You never know when you might need them.”
He drew a long, red key from his pocket and unlocked the briefcase on the coffee table. Inside were neatly packaged rows of baked goods, all wrapped in fine plastic and gold foil. Mr. Pigman wasn’t sure, but it looked like cherry torts and wrapped crème de mint chocolates.
Mr. Pigman was beginning to wonder whether Mr. Crumbs’ brother would be arriving anytime soon. And who was this brother of his? Tulip was a small town, the Pigman’s knew most of the people who lived there, and most knew of their flower shop.
“Well?” Mr. Crumbs said. He was staring at Mr. Pigman. Mrs. Pigman was heartily chewing on a candy that Mr. Crumbs had given her, nodding happily and repeating, “This is lovely. Just lovely!”
Mr. Crumbs stared at Mr. Pigman, holding out a candy with an extended arm.
“Well, sure, I’d like to try one,” Mr. Pigman said.
“This is one of my favorites. It’s a cream-cheese chocolate caramel.” Mr. Crumbs’ eyes were so wide, Mr. Pigman thought they might pop right out of his head. His smile had taken over half his face, his excitement and passion over his candies radiating the room.
Mr. Pigman unwrapped the candy. The room suddenly smelled of fresh, sweet chocolate and he instantly felt better about Mr. Crumbs. As he chewed it, his mouth filled with sugared cheese flavor, almost like cheesecake... no, like chewing caramel... then the flavor changed again, to a rich, deep, dark chocolate. As he swallowed the candy, he smiled at Mr. Crumbs.
“That is a good candy!” he told him, and Mr. Crumbs beamed with pride.
And then something unusual happened.
As Mr. Pigman watched Mr. Crumbs’ smiling face, he noticed his face was getting bigger. And bigger. It looked like Mr. Crumbs was growing into an enormous man, right there in his study! It all happened so fast—Mr. Pigman wanted to tell him, You’re going to hit your head on the ceiling!—but when the words reached his mouth, Mr. Pigman let out a big, loud squeek.
Then another squeek.
Mr. Crumbs was gigantic now. He was laughing and clapping his hands. “Better run off now, Pigmans!” he bellowed. His voice was so loud, so powerful, that Mr. Pigman had to cover his ears. As he lifted his hands, he saw something incredible—his hands were little white paws. Mr. Pigman let out another squeek. His calling was answered by his wife, a higher-pitched squeek, as she came scurrying over. As she approached him, he realized what had happened: They had been turned into mice.
Mrs. Pigman was smaller than he, but also a white mouse. Her whiskers were a dark shade of gray and she was wearing miniature spectacles. She grabbed his paw, squeaking in high-pitched sounds that oddly sounded like, “Let’s get out of here!”
Mr. Pigman ran after her, amazed at how easy it was to run with four legs. Mrs. Pigman led him down to the laundry chute. They jumped in, scurried down the passageway to the basement, and ran to a dark corner before they stopped to talk.
Mrs. Pigman panted, “What just happened?! Who was that man?! Why are we mice?!” Mr. Pigman just shook his head, unable to find words. Mrs. Pigman lifted her miniature mouse spectacles to wipe away her tears. Mr. Pigman patted her fuzzy shoulder, wondering what they should do. How would they protect themselves from cats or other predators? Where would they live? How would they eat? Would they ever turn back into humans?
“Don’t worry, dear,” Mr. Pigman told her quietly. “We’ll be okay.” He grabbed a nearby laundered t-shirt with his teeth and made a cozy little nest for them. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep, and I’ll stay up to watch over us.” Mrs. Pigman nodded, still unsure, but laid down and fell asleep from utter exhaustion and stress. Mr. Pigman continued to pat her shoulder until soft snores echoed from the dark corner. He then sat and pondered the unusual events of the evening. Who was this Mr. Crumbs and what was he up to?