Rats

Rats

It’s not just an expression I say when things go wrong.   It’s an expression of fear.   I see them in corners, in walls, under the house.   Small black dotted eyes creeping out to see if it’s safe to steal scraps on the floor.   I’ve put out glue traps, noise repellents, hired pesticide companies.   And not the cheap bullshit kind either.   The kind that sprays my home with rat poison and makes me stay in a motel for three days and guarantees results or they’ll spray my fucking house for free, if I have proof.   Had to invest in security cameras from ADT to make sure these bastards stay the fuck outta my home.   Then, when I see them, I look at the goddamn footage and sometimes the cameras see what I see, but not always.   See, sometimes these bastards come up with a plan to get food while being out of the vantage point of the goddamn cameras, no matter how many times I move the angle of the cameras.  

     ADT says things like it’s just a reflection of light on the floor or off of the floor cameras, since you had us put all the cameras on the floor instead of the ceiling like all our other customers.   

     The other customers don’t understand the importance of keeping these vermin out.   Rats are like cockroaches; there’s never just one.   I’m sure they’re breeding and eating my scraps on the floor.   But I set up snap traps to kill all these motherfuckers.   Bastards.  

     I bought bear-proof garbage cans, not because of the bears, but because of the rats.    You know what the difference between a rat and a mouse is?   There’s no fucking difference.   A rat is a mouse and a mouse is a rat.   Motherfuckers.  

     They both crawl, making scraping noises on my wood floors.   Their urine and shit stink my home, smells crescendoing every day.   I put Febreeze everywhere.   I put poison, Febreeze, poison, everywhere but the fucking fridge.   I bought a fridge with a lock on it, so those bastards can’t get in.    Maybe you fuckers don’t know what a bastard is.   See, a bitch is a girl dog, a son-of-a-bitch is a boy dog.  A bastard is a girl rat, a son-of-a-bastard is a boy rat.  Sometimes the fuckers can switch sexes, so if there be just sons-of-bastards, they can still have offspring.   Fuckers.   I spend a lot of my days at work looking at my phone screen to see what the bastards and S O B s be doing when I’m working at the market as a cashier.   Me counting coins, dollars, or swiping cards.  But after every customer I be looking at my phone seeing what the bastards and sons-of-bastards (S O B s) be doing.  

    Maybe if I put contact glue on all my floors, these fuckers’ll leave me alone.   Gotta get the glue inside the walls and under the house.  Mmm.  How the hell would I do that?   

     Not married.  Not sure why.  I tried dating, but one time I was with a woman named Jessica and we went out to eat, I ordered a steak and potatoes, I’m a steak n potatoes kinda guy, and she ordered the salmon with sides and I saw rats in their fish tank.  Told her we had to leave.   She looked confused and asked why.   I told her rats are everywhere.   She gave me puzzled look and asked, “Where?   Where are the rats?” And she gave me a puzzled look, told the waitress we had to leave and we never spoke again.   Rats.  

       And see, they’re smart.   The bastards and S O B s are smart.   They discovered they can move the ADT cameras while I’m sleeping.   Then, they can pickpocket me.   I know what they’re after and so do you.   How do I know you weren’t a rat in a past life or maybe you’re one of the rats I killed coming back, pretending to be a psychiatrist who’s trying to kill my brain cells with meditation so you can eat my brains?   No, my brain’s not made of cheese.   I thought rats were carnivores.   

      Yeah, yeah, I’ve been taking my medications, attending this therapy, the group therapy, etc.   Yeah, I know the court mandated it.   Because of the crime, but they didn’t understand that if I didn’t put pesticides in their oxygen tanks the rats would’ve gotten in their lungs.   What do you mean there were no rats in the tanks?   Can you see inside the tanks?   Maybe the tanks were made in a country that worships reptiles.   Ever think of that?   I could’ve been saving those people’s lives.  

    Yeah.  I remember the psyche ward.  At least the people who worked there were smart enough to not allow the women to wear bras, because what if they were hiding live rats in there to make their boobs look bigger.  

    But what if they’re hiding them in their panties or tunneling them in their anus.   Why don’t you think woman like rats?   Weird.   Yeah, but how do you know the women aren’t screaming to attract the rats?   Maybe it’s a mating call or Morse code?  

    No, I don’t think so.   Why would’ve they been in the fish tank if she was hiding them there?   But, they are everywhere.   Are there any in this office?   Oh, right.  We already went over this 20 times.  

      Oh, our time is up?   You sure?   Maybe the rats moved the minute hand and the hour hand when we weren’t looking.  Your phone has satellite?   Maybe there are rats in space?   There were toys in space and plants in space.  Maybe the idiots at NASA let rats into space and they’re fucking around with our satellites?   Why do I always blame rats for everything?   Write it down?   Homework?   Therapy with homework?   What the fuck?   Buy a journal?   But then the rats’ll know all my plans.   And you’re sure not one of them?  Rats don’t get degrees and there are degrees on your wall.  Right?   How do I know those are real schools and the rats aren’t setting up fake schools to brainwash clients?  Huh?   I don’t know whether or not I’m breathing air.  Do you think the rats contaminated our air, too?    Why don’t you think so?   Because it wasn’t on the news.   Maybe the rats took over the cable networks, too.   Yes, you said before our time was up.  But what if they’re rats snuck into my car during our session?  Deep breaths, but I told you, the rats infected our air. Bye.