She spoke slowly. “Your… parents?”

The lady must have thought I was a mentally challenged child. “Ni, hoo don’ under’and. ‘eed ‘ell!” A large glob of spit hit the receiver.

“I don’t know what the problem is, but I’m sending a cruiser out to this address.”

Thank god! Finally something.

“The storm may take them a while; there’ve been several accidents on the roads. Sit tight.”

I tried not to say anything more, even after I kept the lady on the phone for another five minutes. She finally hung up after my voice went hoarse from humming ‘Yankey Doodle’ eight times in a row. With no dial tone, I hung the phone up and starting pacing the office when I heard the sound of keys being dragged across the floor. I froze instantly. Somewhere between aisle three and four, Pop was lurking.

I suddenly began to laugh. It was a low, gurgling sound (probably from the amount of blood I had swallowed while Pop had been gnawing on my tongue). I was being stalked by a guinea pig! I thought, how ridiculous--

“Hunted, actually…”

I stopped laughing. Isabel had been right all along; smelling all that gerbil shit over the years had made me crazy.

“Maybe you’ve been coo-coo all along?”

“’et the ‘uck out!” I screamed, slamming my bloody palms to my forehead.

“Cute, huh?”

I began to tiptoe out of my office, crouching and kneeling to look under the counters.

“Give my keys ‘ack, ‘astard!” I hissed.

There was no answer.

I continued to sift up and down each aisle, searching for a hint of greasy black tufts. I was envisioning myself grabbing the thing by the scruff of its neck when a shadow darted across my path. I leapt for it and lodged my forehead squarely on the edge of the iguana cage. The cast iron angle left a long red gash across my noggin and that was the last thing I remembered.