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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