“Beep”. I pretended I didn’t hear it. “Beep!” Maybe it will go away. “BEEP!!!” and by that time the dog had heard it, his quivering body pressed up against my office chair so hard he knocked my fingers off the keyboard.
It was 9:00 and our usual bedtime. But the dog, in his neurotic way, becomes agitated and frantic to get out the door when things beep. Something had to be done or none of us, man nor beast, would get any sleep.
The sound came from upstairs, and was, or course, the fire alarm in the hallway. I had taken the battery out a couple of months ago when the 9 volt went bad. (The battery backup insures the alarm works even if house current is off.) Now, here it was beeping again–possessed by some strange power–even without the battery!
BEEP! Great Caesar’s Ghost! Now the alarm in the bedroom was beeping too! This called for more serious measures.
So I unscrewed the units from the ceiling mounts and disconnected them entirely. There! That should do the trick.
BEEP! AGGGGGHHH! It was like being screamed at by a decapitated head! Both units lay on the hallway shelf and both continued to beep from their ceiling connectors!
Ramp it up a notch: we’re about to go to bed, so just turn off the power in the upstairs, I decided. Quick–to the breaker box, Batman!
Switches off, upstairs is dark. But NO! The zombie alarms could not be killed. So at 9:15, I scraped ice off the windshield of the Subaru and headed off to the first “convenience” store that had batteries. Convenience, btw, is a misnomer when you live where we live and the stores live where they live. The closest would be 15 miles one way.
And the ultimate terror: replacing the batteries will make no difference when I get home with them. Google the closest Motel 6.
So, despite one large buck who threw himself in front of the car, and a very small fox who was standing in the middle of the road as I rounded one of 5 blind curves before I reached the hardtop (and countless other suicidal reflective eyes just off the shoulders of the winding road down Allegheny Spring Road) I found three 9 volt batteries in Shawsville. Now what?
Home just before 10, and the moment of truth (the dog listened anxiously from his pen out in the cold dark.) The beeping stopped. And they all lived happily (or at least beep-free) ever after.