Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Rat Army General vs. Prairie Girl


Rat Town. I was still reeling from the phenomenon of ice in the beer glass, flying roaches, and the red wine splattered across my new shirt. I supposed that the next logical step would be to visit a little place called Rat Town. Bonnie was already hoping off the stoop and heading down the alleyway as she shined a flashlight in to the sky and shouted, “Onward to Rat Town!!!”
I followed behind Bonnie, but the process of moving in a straight line was proving slightly difficult. The beer and wine were working their magic on my overtaxed, jet-lagged body and on my over-stimulated yet strangely dulled mind. The bouncing glow of the flashlight had a strangely soothing effect on the otherwise harsh surroundings of the alleyway. 
It was too dark to clearly see the large amounts of litter lining the sides of the alleyway. The only reminder of the squalor was the soft rustle of plastic bags as the breeze pinned them against walls and fences. I could still smell the sweet stench of rotting fruit but it seemed much less abrasive in the fading heat of the evening. The soft growl of motorbikes passing seemed much farther away and a shiny Cheshire cat moon was becoming visible over the flat top of a three story apartment building. It was beautiful, and I began to feel smug and warm about my decision for adventure. I had moved, alone, to a foreign country and here I was taking an evening stroll with two kind people in a moonlit alley.  I felt strong and renewed.
My comfortable drunken reverie was interrupted when I saw Bonnie stop abruptly and put up her hands in a command for Craig and I to follow suit. Bonnie crouched down and had us join her in a squatting huddle. “Okay, Rat Town is about six feet away. We have to move quietly so we have the element of surprise. Also, we have to move in darkness. Trust me, you gotta do it this way to get the full effect. You guys just follow me and when I stop, line up beside me.”
 Craig shook his head and let out a sigh that suggested he had done this before but was resigned to making the trek again. Bonnie stood up and motioned for us to line up behind her, back to front. We literally tip toed about six feet up the alley, keeping a perfect, straight line formation. I realized that we were headed towards the big blue garbage bins that I had earlier seen the mangy dog eating out of. I could see the silhouettes of the three garbage bins. The garbage was pilled so high that it had spilled out and around the bins. The wine was obviously settling in because I remember thinking that, in the dim moonlight, the garbage bins resembled the three wise men wearing their funny shaped hats. Bonnie’s hand suddenly shot up and I could see her fingers silently counting down from five. When she hit zero, she turned on the flashlight and all hell broke loose.

Think about Templeton from Charlotte's Web...
It is not so bad, just....
Think about Templeton from Charlotte's Web...
                                 
The spotlight shone directly on the garbage bins and illuminated about 24 beady eyes that stared straight back at us. That first blast of light froze all the rodents. They turned to look at us but stayed completely still. These rats were bigger, glossier and angrier looking than any rat I had seen before. They bulged in the middle, giving the impression that each of them had acquired a hairy beer gut over the years. I could even see the paws of the beasts, gnarled mini hands, which clawed at white plastic bags. Craig shifted his weight and the sound of his foot scraping on the pavement of the alleyway sent the rat army into a fluster.             They exploded in every direction. Some rats jumped deeper into the bins, some jumped off the side landing on the over flowing mass of garbage and scurried off into the vacant lot.
 One rat, he must have been the Rat Army General, (I swear I heard him shout, “Save Yourselves!” to his rat buddies)  kamikazied off the front of the garbage bins and landed on the concrete with a thick thud. He quickly recovered, gave himself a shake, his beer belly rolling with the motion, and starting running directly at us. I screamed and jumped behind Craig, nearly pushing him over with my self-protecting zeal. Bonnie assumed a combat position, her legs slightly bent and the flashlight following the rat general’s every move. I thought she was going to kick the rat but when he was only three feet away she shouted “Run!”,  grabbed my shirt and took off  towards our row houses. We collapsed on the concrete stoop, sitting side by side and laughing, that unique kind of laugh which is born of fear, pride and desperation.
Shortly after the episode with the Rat General, we collectively decided that it was time for bed. It was nearing midnight and I had to meet the boss in the early morning. We stood in a row on our concrete stoop, each of us searching for our keys. Bonnie unlocked her pad lock first and whispered good night. I opened my door and the smell from my pillow, which was still sitting beside my door, hit my nostrils. Craig waved good night as he disappeared into his row house and I stepped inside and stood staring at my pillow. There had been a slight breeze outside, giving the illusion of a moderately cool evening, but the day’s heat had not escaped my sauna and was still curling around my body.
 I went to turn on my fan but quickly remember the jet engine noise it was now emitting and figured my neighbors might not appreciate sleeping next to a runway. I laid down in the dark, the moldy smell lingered gently in my nostrils so I tried to breathe only through my mouth and, after about 5 deep breaths, I was fast asleep.

I wish your screen was scratch and sniff.
                                       

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