Today I pickled my first rat

We had what some would call an infestation. 

One dark and cold night I awoke to feel the pitter-patter of tiny feet across my pillow. That’s right- my own pillow. I made a move and I felt the bastard run down my leg...................... Jesus, that was it. I had had enough sleepiness nights worrying about when I would get herpes from land sharks. 

But no more.

I brought about a ton or Rodin and set piles of it about the place then went to sleep. I awoke early and tentatively peered into the bowls, they were empty!

So I sat back and gloated at their misfortune, but my  gloat was short lived.  The bubble burst upon hearing that rats have an illness homing device and go to their nests to die- Shit. That means in a month or a week or whenever we're going to have to deal with the smell of rotting diseased bastards ruining are nasal passages with the memory of their vile existence. Erugh. 

3 days later I awoke to another beautiful day in paradise. I opened my door and there on the floor was a present- A small but perfectly formed rat. I was so happy! I did a double take as another but far superior rat was dead too! It was a good day. 

After leaving them in the rain for about 2 days I decided I was ready for my close up, but alas one had  'mysteriously' disappeared.... luckily I was left with the large one. 


I brought a jar and a bottle of Tesco’s finest vodka for around 6 English pounds. I figured that kind of vodka was suitable and may preserve them for a good while yet. There it is now, stuffed uncomfortably in a tiny jar winking at me. 

I killed another rat by setting an accidental trap and then dropped a brick on its head. I haven’t had the guts to fish it out from the bottom of the bin yet but I know soon, curiosity will get the better of me. The same thing happened with baby chick. ...

I had adopted a baby chick with special needs from a lady in my village. It was special as it walked backwards, the poor thing. And when it pecked, its peck didn't even reach the ground. I left it in the capable hands of a friend but when I returned it had died. I wont say I blame my friend.


 My housemate's didn't want me to do anything with it, so we had a modest funeral- just close friends and family.  Baby Chick rested a while in the garden. Massive curiosity got the better of me. I kept thinking about it's perfectly formed wings and the bones it would have left behind- I wanted to see it. I knew deep down it was wrong but I just couldn't help myself- so one dark night I got a spoon and dug it up............ 



Very very disappointing. 
 It had melted away into the world. Baby Chick had left nothing of himself to me apart from a memory