Monday Massacres: The One About A Rat

By • Feb 11th, 2013 • Category: Monday Massacres

From the time Dad and Mum prayed fervently to have me until a stork dropped me in Mum’s lap, I knew I was destined for the big life. My eekie weekie noises betrayed the greatness that awaited me. My fellow rodents scurried around, content to nibble food here, scare a few humans there, watch Spanish soaps from atop rickety cupboards, munch generous holes into stinky socks and neatly pressed-‘Sunday best’ clothes alike; you know, the erratic life. The good life. But I wanted more. There had to be more pleasure than that attained by lying on your good side while rubbing your hairy, bulging belly full of what was once a pretty yellow dress with all these floral things that humans seem to like.

There simply had to be more. Granted, we’d crack up and high-five like crazy whenever one of us would return with a story of a human they’d scared. Owing to his muscular frame, Brutus always had the most hilarious stories. For some reason humans always compared him to a cat. It is partly because of this clout that he became Da bRat. We all bowed down in his presence. He had an aura about him. And he was always eating on something. This, in my opinion, is why he always had these all these excited hood rats schmoozing about. Brutus Da bRat.

BROdents

Straight from the underground

I was no Brutus but I had to leave a mark. I had to join the mouse greats. Mickey Mouse. Jerry. Town Mouse. Country Mouse. Those were cool. But I wanted even more than that. Three blind mice. They had a freaking song done about them. That’s what I wanted. I had to be that rat with a song about him. I just didn’t know how I’d go about it. See I lived in the house of a…how do I put this lightly…a struggling musician. I think that’s what humans call people who can’t carry a tune but get paid at concerts to say ‘nalumansi’. Yes, I’ve been to concerts. I’m a town mouse after all.

I’d lived with this…err…musician all my life so naturally I knew their schedule like the tip of my tail. They go to sleep. Brutus comes out with his gang. They eat. They leave. I come out. I eat till I can’t twitch my whiskers. I half roll half shuffle back to my digs. Wait till next day. This is how life had always been…I knew their times. Their schedules. Everything. Until this one day I got out a little too early… And she saw me. Then my private life ended…I became a star

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