Drat, a Rat!

 "Drat, a rat!" a cry rang out from the kitchen.

"Everything okay in there, dear?" I called out from the living room.

"There's a rat in the kitchen!" my wife answered, panicked.

I sighed and hit the release on my recliner. My feet plummeted to the carpet and I slipped them into my house shoes, cognizant of my ankle monitor. A partially involuntary grunt escaped my lips as I pushed myself to standing. I made my way to the kitchen.

"Where is it?"

"He ran out the door!"

"Ah," I said simply. My wife noticed my tone.

"What?" she responded sharply.

"Nothing."

"Bullshit."

"No, what's bullshit is you making me come in here to see the empty space where a rat had once been. What am I supposed to do here? Observe? I was comfy!"

"Comfy!? I'm in here slaving over your dinner and it's the least you can do to keep me safe!" The exclamation was accompanied by the slamming of a plate on the counter.

"Keep you safe? It's gone!"

"He could come back!"

"Then close the door!"

"What, and boil to death in here?"

"Boil to death? You're making sandwiches!"

"Yeah, and it's hot in here."

I paused, taking in the temperature of the room and the conversation.

"Then, well, if you can't handle the heat, stay out of the kitchen!" I said, continuing the argument.

"You're a fucking idiot."

"I'm an idiot!? I'm an idiot!? I guess I am - I married you! Now unless you have something you actually need me to do I'm going back to my seat." I moved toward the doorway.

"You gotta catch the rat!" she said, grabbing my arm.

"How am I going to catch some rodent out in the wild?"

"No! The rat! What's his name that squealed on you!"

"Oh shit - Charlie!? Which way did he go!"