Is there a Renfield in the house?

I never thought I’d say this, but I need a Renfield.

Not Dracula, no matter who’s playing him this week. Not Van Helsing, even if he looks (and talks!) exactly like Hugh Jackman. No, I need the guy who doesn’t just pull the wings off flies, he eats them whole.

Yesterday, I found at least a dozen flies with their noses pressed against the picture window to the patio like all they want in life was to get out. Yeah, right. It’s also the warmest place in our air-conditioned house. The dh (aka darling husband) and I killed them dead. Today there were another dozen more. Why let them go to waste? They're supposed to be a great source of protein. Renfield could have the spiders too, but I’d have to draw the line at the cat.

I can’t figure out where they came from. It wasn’t the garbage. I think I would’ve noticed if they started swarming out of the relevant kitchen cabinet. It can’t be the cat box. We clean his litter twice a day. The cat himself has learned to associate dead varmints with dishes of cream, so he diligently brings us anything he finds. Last winter, he even dragged a dead mouse into the bed with us to make sure he didn’t miss out on his cream treat.

So is there a dead body hiding someplace in the house? It seems likely. No matter how clean we keep it, there will always be places neither dh and I, nor the cat can reach.

Which begs the question: If the dh, the cat and I can’t find a carcass in our own house, how many things could be hiding in this weird wide wonderful world of ours? Why couldn’t there be a water monster in Loch Ness or Bigfoot in Oklahoma? Or vampires anywhere?

For that matter, why does it have to be a critter corpse? How can I be sure Beelzebub hasn’t taken up residence in the basement? Given the stacks of the dh’s record collection, he'd have more than enough places to hide.

Dang. I shouldn’t have asked that question. Now I need to write a story to find out the answer. Oh well, it keeps me off the streets.

Happy August!