Monday, February 08, 2010


Yesterday I was at a Coffee Shop in Larchmont Village enjoying a cup of Java and a blueberry scone when I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation of the man and woman sitting behind my.

Because my friend had run off to the bathroom to heed the call of Mother Nature I wasn’t occupied with my own conversation and was able to maneuver myself on my chair for a prime listening position.

The man was complaining to the woman about the rats that have taken up residence in their house and how the owner of the house is not doing anything about it.

Before I go any further I must admit that rats fascinate me. I hate them. I think they’re disgusting creatures and carry the plague, but when Discovery or Animal Planet has a show about rats I bring out the ice-cream, wrap myself in my afghan, curl up on the couch, and watch with rapt attention.

Usually that night I have a recurring nightmare that my car breaks down on the streets of suburbia in the middle of the night and when I open the hood to check the engine I’m attacked by hundreds of rats. I run and I run and I run and when I’m too exhausted to run any more I collapse on the suburban pavement. Just as the rats leap all over me gnawing at my weakened body I wake up. I then have to sleep with the light on. And still I cannot not watch shows about rats.

When I’m out late at night and see a rat crawling in a dumpster or scurrying across the street looking for garbage I stop and watch, mesmerized. I guess you could call me a rat voyeur.

Okay, so this guy then talks about the rat he killed, whining about how he knows rats are disgusting but he now considers himself a murderer, a rat killer. After that he rambled on and on about how baby rats don’t know they’re disgusting and shouldn’t be punished and he feels terrible he might have killed their mother. He was dead serious and on the verge of tears. I was on the verge of laughter. The woman did her best to calm him down but he was too emotionally distraught.

I think that poor schmuck has watched “Ratatouille” way too many times.

I might be a rat voyeur but if one invaded my house, my personal space, I would kill it instantly without remorse.

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