2002-06-27 - 3:31 p.m.

Yes, you are all sick of hearing about rats and my new apartment. I don't blame you one bit. However, I must relate this morning's rat story.

Last night, I blockaded with gluetraps the doorway the rats were going through. When I returned from my grandmother's house this morning, I was thrilled and horrified to see I'd actually caught one. It was smallish like the first one, and also, still alive. Of course, getting caught on the side in glue is more traumatic to a little critter than a pinched tail. And believe me, this little fella let me know it. Not only was he writhing and bleeding from the mouth, he was squealing as loudly as a small dog!

I was so beyond disgust and terror, I could barely function, and in zombie-like motion, I began searching for something in which to dispose of it. Having no more trashcans I was willing to sacrifice, I decided I would tape the R2-D2-esqe swing-top lid of the previous funerary dustbin closed, and place him in that. While attempting to free the edge of the tape from the rest of the roll (ironic: the rat was stuck and couldn't get unstuck, the tape was stuck, and I couldn't unstick it...) I heard a noise from outside. I ran out to see if it was my friendly new neighbor, who had previously volunteered to slay any more live rats for me. Instead, it was his teenage son. I asked if he wanted to kill a rat for me, and he agreed. He probably had no idea that his dad and I had previously made an arrangement about that.

He came inside, and and asked what he should use - and suggested a shoe?!?!? I said "not one of MINE!" And then it hit him, "Oh, you know what, I have this machete..." and started to walk out. I asked if he might prefer to take the rat outside, as I wasn't particularly interested in cleaning up the resulting carnage. "Carnage," he chuckled, as he picked up the tray containing the shreiking rat and walked out.

Less than a minute later, I heard a couple of loud bangs, and ran to the door to see. He was walking toward my trashcan, tray in hand, "I severed its head." Yes, and for good measure, he also severed its waist. I thanked him profusely suggesting that he mustn't have expected when he woke up that morning that he'd soon kill a rat. He turned and walked over to the hose where rinsed off his machete.

I covered the hacked carcass with some old newspapers, and went inside to get on with my morning.

I still can't get the image out of my mind...

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