The Beings Beneath Your Floor
LC Van Savage
Letís talk about those annoying Little People. You know who they are.
They live with you and me too, as well as with everyone else who lives in
a place that has floors and frankly, theyíre a royal PITA and impossible
to get rid of.
Now Iím not entirely sure about this, but I think the Irish lay
claim to ďownershipĒ of the Little People and often call them by their
more ethnic names, ďLeprechauns.Ē Actually, Iím not sure who owns them or
who thinks they own them or even what their country of origin is, and
furthermore, Iím not at all convinced theyíre Leprechauns either. I mean
I think theyíre much smaller than Leprechauns although Iíve never actually
seen a Leprechaun---well, except for that one night back in í74. All I
know is that those Little People live in my house too, and I donít think I
have any Irish blood in me which is a dumb thing to say because if we all
had the ability trace our ancestry back to those halcyon days of knuckle
dragging and hoof Ďn paw cuisine, weíd discover to our surprise that we
have a lot of blood pumping through us from a lot of continents and
countries. But thatís another column.
So as for me, I think the Little People canít belong to only one
group. Mongo and I are a fairly eclectic family and Iíll tell you, the
Little People live and thrive well in our home.
But as anyone who shares a home with the LP, you know they live
beneath oneís floorboards. They live right beneath your feet and theyíre
looking up at you constantly, and, the thing theyíre most famous for is
that they steal things from you. All things. Usually small things. Your
car keys, all your pens, your pills, your lucky penny, your lucky rock,
the candy bar you hid from your kids---you know, all that stuff. You put
it all down, turn your back, answer the phone, take out the garbage, etc.,
and when you come back to get that thing, poof! Itís gone! And I mean
really and truly gone. Forever. You search, you retrace every step and of
course thereís no hope. Itís gone. The LP took your thing and thereís no
chance youíll ever see it again. Ever. So my advice is to stop looking. Go
out and buy another one. Youíll never get it back.
Of course I canít go out and immediately buy new car keys or a driverís
license, or my glasses I must use to see, and stuff like that, so when
they take those things I stamp hard around the house to send a lot of
noise and dust down on top of them. But I make sure Mongo isnít around
because heíd probably think that was weird because he doesnít believe in
things like Little People and other things that everyone knows really
exist. And so because he doesnít believe in them, he never loses anything
either. The LP just donít bother with him.
The LP are also responsible for that old mystery of missing socks in
the dryer, but hereís where they perform their most diabolical of tricks.
They steal one sock and pull it quickly beneath the floor and then watch,
laughing with cruel glee when those of us who sort the laundry begin to
search for the sockís mate. What they do next is just plain genius; they
put the missing sock back into the next weekís laundry where it shows up
in the basket waiting to be sorted. Demonic, thatís what they are.
Have I ever seen the LP? Well, I think so. A fleeting shadow, a form
in the corner, a glimmer, a squeak, a creak, a faint rustling. They never
speak, but because I stay up very late writing this column and other
things, when the house is completely quiet, Iím pretty sure I hear them
partying. I hear them laughing. Itís very faint, but itís definitely
laughter. I donít look up from my keyboard because thatíd give it away
that Iím aware of them, but I do type more softly. I donít want to give
them the satisfaction of knowing I hear them. I donít want to react to
them because if I do, who knows what those fiends will steal next? Itís
very late right now as a matter of fact, and I can hear them. Theyíre
right underneath the carpet, waiting to steal stuff from me. Well, Iím
keeping alert. Theyíre not going to get away with anything this time. No.
Iím th on in control now. Th r Ďs no way th yíll b st aling from m
tonight. Absolut y no way, I t ll you. Iíll just k p on typing.
H Y!! WH R ĎS MY L TT R ?? TH ON THAT COM S B TW N F AND D??
Oh, wh n I g t my hands on thos Littl P opl , Iím going to wring th ir
diabolical little n cks.
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