A Better Trap II

“What are you looking to trap?” asked the man.

“I have a goblin running around my house and I’m trying to figure out how to get rid of it,” Mike admitted.

“About how large is it?” asked the man. It may have been Mike’s imagination but he thought that the man looked scornful at the mention of a goblin infestation.

“He’s about this tall,” Mike said, making a motion with his hand and flushing slightly.

“I don’t think we can help you,” said the man. “We don’t have any traps that large. You might want to go down to the exterminator for a job that large.” Mike didn’t leave in a happy frame of mind; he didn’t even look at the cash register beauty.

It took a few days before Mike finally grew annoyed enough with the destroyed food and torn wires to go to the exterminator. The final straw was when he found that the goblin had burrowed into the space in between his mattress and box spring and made a nest for itself. It never entered this nest at night, goblins were after all nocturnal and fairly intelligent, instead it slept there while he was at work. That was all fine and well except that it left things in its nest which made sleeping in the bed very uncomfortable.

When Mike finally found his way to the exterminators shop he was met with a scene that looked as if it was taken from a medieval torture chamber. The instruments of the man’s trade hung on the walls, from small enough for a baby mouse, to large enough for a badger, or a goblin.

The man who came out from the shops back room, hands covered in blood Mike instantly noted, looked like he fit right into the torture chamber motif. He was a large man, with a long beard and wiry hair that stuck out at strange angles from his head. He was even wearing a leather butcher’s apron.

“I was wondering if you could take care of a goblin problem?” Mike asked, trying not to look at the bloodstained hands.

“How many?” asked the exterminator.

“Only one that I know of but I can’t seem to get rid of him myself so I figured I’d call in a professional.”

“Small job,” the exterminator commented. “Hold on and I’ll make you an estimate.”

After Mike had shelled out the money, and the exterminator had carried away a squirming goblin with easy of long experience, Mike was finally able to sit down a think about how the goblin could have gotten in. He went over the house with a fine pick comb but never found any entrance it could have gotten into. It was only a few days later that he heard that the checkout girl at the local store had been raising a big fuss because her pet goblin had gone missing and that she was offering a large reward for it. She said that it had been trained to open doors and everything. Mike thought about the exterminators bloodstained hands and decided never to say anything about it, he never could look her in the eye again.