The Beast
It started out with little tell tale signs, here and there. Nothing really convicting, but they were there for anyone who could see them.
There was a chicken bone on the floor beside the waste can. There was a trash bag with a hole at the bottom of it. From time to time a cereal box on top of the fridge would be over tipped, its contents spilling onto the floor.
Yes, the signs were there. We just failed to make the connection.
Some time after we had begun to suspect that we had a nightly intruder we found the indemnifying evidence. A cloth bag had been chewed through, sunflower seeds from within spilled out across our living room floor.
Yes, that was the final proof. We had a rat living in our home.
Later that day, as I sat on the couch, relaxing in front of the television, I heard an odd noise coming from the kitchen. I got up to investigate.
As the light came on I spied a small black creature with a long white tail scurrying into a corner, to disappear into a hole. Not only had I seen our little guest, I had found his point of entry.
Being industrious and manly, I had the tools necessary to foil his re-entry into my domicile. And so I got some metal screen and my staple gun and proceeded to wall up his way of entry. The staples I used were ½ inch staples and driven in their full depth and not easily removed. I was satisfied that he would not be getting back into my home.
A few days later I heard him, once again, rummaging around my kitchen. Again, I found my way to the kitchen to see him disappear, once again, in that same corner to disappear into that same hole that I had sealed up.
Upon further inspection I found that he had managed to free a couple of the staples from the wood that they were imbedded. I don't know how. This rat must be a monster, I thought, to have removed these staples.
Again, I walled up the hole. This time I used a wood block and ¾ inch staples. I would have used nails if I could have, but a hammer would not fit into such a tight space. However, a ¼ piece of wood held in by several ¾ inch staples should do the job. Again, I felt satisfied that he would not be able to find his way back in.
On the next morning I entered my kitchen to find that the beast had found his way back in. The wood block was, not only, not stapled to the hole, it was in the middle of the floor.
He was taunting me.
And so it was that I decided upon trapping the little vermin and killing him with the precise abruptness of human engineering. Snap traps!
Unfortunately, upon hearing this news, the women folk in my household shrieked in horror, "don't kill him!"
What? Did my ears deceive me? They did not want me to kill this beast. Did they not understand that this giant, super-intelligent, taunting rat had the run of the house and would soon kill us all in our sleep?
And so, much to my dismay, I ended up purchasing a live capture trap.
Needless to say, I was not happy. This trap cost $30.00. For that money I could have purchased about 15 snap traps and caught and killed this vermin within a day or so. Instead, I spent my money on a large metal contraption that, if it worked, would allow me the satisfaction of driving the beast to a remote location and releasing it. Oh, joy!
For several days this trap had been set. For several days it had been tripped. For several days it produced no rat. For several days it fed this super-intelligent giant rat. For several days I grew more determined that I would catch this beast, if it killed me.
After a week of this rats steeling from the trap I had all but given up hope that this trap would work. I had discussed with the women folk the fact that we would, eventually, have to set snap-traps and kill the beast. For, if he were not caught soon, he would bring friends, eventually.
It was later that night, after my explanation that I heard the shreaks. The rat was in the house. Only, this time, he was not in the kitchen, he was roaming around the downstairs living room.
Bounding downstairs, I spied the huge black beast as he scurried behind my stereo stand. Without delay, I grabbed a pair of heavy leather gauntlets, a flashlight and a heavy broom.
Then, I set to hunting.
As I moved my stereo stand I saw him bolt out and under the hide-a-bed couch. Hastily, I removed the cushions and found him, running for a new hiding spot, back under my stereo stand.
Quickly, I pulled my coffee table out of the way so that I could better move the couch to clear an area for the killing that would, soon, take place.
As soon as I moved my stereo stand, he bolted out from under it. Grabbing the broom I swatted at the beast and knocked him against the wall. Screams filled the living room as the women folk hollered, "Don't hurt him!"
I gritted my teeth and continued my hunt.
Suddenly he was running across the room and towards the women folk, generating more screams from the women.
Seeing his way filled with screaming idiots he changed directions and headed towards the downstairs bathroom.
I followed, as quickly as I could and, once he was in the bathroom I shut the door, locking him inside.
Hah, I had him now! All I had to do was get in there and do away with the little beast.
Still, I had to contend with the women folk who were screaming at me not to hurt the disease infested beast that had taunted me a few days earlier.
After calming down the screeching women, I found my place of killers Zen, armed myself with my trusty broom and, carefully, opened the door to the bathroom and slipped inside.
He was nowhere to be found. He was not in the trashcan. He was not hiding behind the toilet or in the cabinet. He was not in the toilet or sink. He was gone, like a wil-o-the-wisp. Gone.
Still, I searched for the black, beady-eyed beast, only to find that he knew my house better than I did. Under the sink, where the cabinetry connects to the wall, I found a hole that led into the walls of my home.
It was at that point when I most felt like Yosemite Sam in a Bugs Bunny cartoon. I hate rats.
Defeated, I left the bathroom. It was at that moment when I got a good glimpse of what used to be our living room. In the chase that had taken place I had virtually destroyed the living room.
Magazines and cushions were strewn about the room. Rat shit; formerly inside my couch (he had made himself at home inside of it) was now on the top of the coffee table. And the hide-a-bed was out and covered, too, with rat shit.
Ooh, I hate rats.
It was two days later when this little drama was replayed. Again, the living room was tossed about in a fury of action as I tried to catch this huge, ugly rat. Again, rat shit was spread about the room as I lurched about, to catch this genius of a rat.
Sweating and tired, I finally had it cornered. It had run up inside one of the cabinets and there was no escape!
As I pulled out the bottom drawer he leaped up to the rail that held the next drawer in place. Removing the second drawer up he repeated his actions, leaping to the top rail.
As I pulled out the top drawer he leapt down on rail, ran straight at me and leapt out, landing on my shirt, just below my chest.
Understand that I am not afraid of rats. In fact, there are no animals that I am afraid of. I have handled rattlesnakes and scorpions. I have handled large spiders and all sorts of creepy crawly beastly things.
However, at that moment, I jerked myself back and let out a sound that could only be described as "Nghaaahyaaah!" Then, I fell back and hit my head on the cabinet behind me and to my right.
The rat was gone and I was slightly injured. What's more, the women folk were both huddled on the staircase and hollering to me, "Did you get him?"
I waited, quietly, for the piano to fall on my head as; somehow, I had morphed from Yosemite Sam into Wiley Coyote.
After sitting in contemplation for a while, I got up and limped into my living room. There was work to be done here. There was shit to vacuum up and furniture to put back.
I hate rats!
Two days later, as I came downstairs, I overheard a suspicious noise. The giant taunting rat! It was in the trap.
Gleefully, I ran into the kitchen and found the trap sprung. Without hesitation I lifted it to eye level to find that I had caught it. Only, somehow, it was not so large as it had seemed. In fact, it was less than half the size that it had appeared to be on that night when it had leaped at me.
Later, I released this little rat at a remote location in the hills. At least, that's what the women folk think.
Later on, it dawned on
me; this was not the rat - my rat. This was not the rat that had taunted me.
No, this was a decoy; an errand rat, sent to lull me into a false sense of
security.
And I know that he thinks that he has me out smarted. But he doesn't. I know
that he will come back when he thinks it's safe. And when he does, I will
be here, waiting.
Only this time, I have
a CO2 gun.
