Nelson is...dead?

You may remember Nelson.

He was/is our tiny friend who likes cheese. Though I've never seen him, I know he's there. Much like Santa or the tooth fairy, he leaves evidence of his existence. However, rather than presents or money, he likes to leave little dark pellets under our sink. I've yet to discover their significance, for I refuse to touch them. Out of respect for Nelson, of course.

Nelson liked/likes Sesi the best. He visited her often, poking his tiny little head out of her curtains at night, greeting her home after a long day at work. Sometimes Sesi would scare Nelson, though, and he would scurry across the floor into his hiding place. Sesi didn't mean to scare him--she's not bigger than many things, but she's a lot bigger than Nelson.

Some nights, Nelson would be brave enough to wait for Sesi in the kitchen. Knowing she likes midnight snacks when she returns home late from the office, he'd prepare a little something for her. She would show her gratitude by running into her room, curling up in bed, and leaving the light on so Nelson could find his way home.

Nelson and I aren't as close. From what I hear, neither are he and Meghan. Sometimes, though, Nelson plays music for Meghan by scratching on her walls and stomping his feet. This lets Meghan know he's safe and close by.

This past Saturday, Sesi and I decided to be productive by getting up early and starting the day off right. We assumed Nelson was sleeping in, or had gone on vacation, since Sesi hadn't seen him in a few days. A sweet, yet foul, stench reminded us we needed to take out the trash.

Later in the day, Sesi and I returned home determined to clean house and then have a restful evening. The powerful wind and rain made us want to stay inside.

While I was cleaning dishes, Sesi was putting a DVD in the player for us to watch during dinner. She suddenly let out a piercing scream, that of a child who discovers a monster in her closet. Her steps were so quick that by the time I had turned around, she was already there, preparing to hide behind me. In a panic I had dropped the dish I was rinsing. When I didn't see a burglar or the appearance of imminent danger, I scolded her for scaring me half to death.

She managed to whisper "Nelson." I was infuriated. For starters, I thought they were friends. By observation I had learned that Sesi may not care for Nelson as much as Nelson cared for Sesi, but her scream at his presence surprised me.

While I sushed her and asked where he was, she grabbed my arm and stared in my eyes. "No. Nelson is DEAD."

Oh.

OH.

She pointed to the living room. "On the chair. Congratulations--you hate that thing, now it's gone!"

I smirked. I do hate that chair. It's broken and awkward. I'm sure in its prime it was lovely, comfortable, appealing. But next to a couch? No question.

I walked over to the chair and was immediately stopped in disgust. Keeled over on the black cushion was a large gray mouse. His little mouse eyes were closed. His little mouse arms folded on his little mouse chest. He wasn't sleeping. He was dead.

"Also..." Sesi called from ten feet away in the kitchen. "That's not Nelson."

Her descriptions of Nelson came back to me. "Really? Are you sure?"

She nodded her head vehemently. "Yes. Nelson is brown. And small. That thing is not Nelson."

"Well, that's good!"

She gave me a wary look.

"Not good?" I asked.

She used her head to point behind her.

"I don't get it," I said.

She knocked on the wall.

"Still nope."

"I think he's in there," she said. The sweet stench returned.

"Oh God."

"MHMM!" she exclaimed. "Nelson."

***

To be continued...after we move our fridge.