Trust me to live in the only rat-free place on earth. Not that I lack rodents. The feeders stocked for the viewing pleasure of B & G sustain my tender fatlings, those that creep as those that fly. But what fun it would be to stop a greasy rat under my claws! They say that a rat can scale a brick wall and push its body through a quarter-sized hole. You can flush it down the toilet, only to find it swimming back up to bite your arse. Feed them anticoagulants: they'll belch and ask for seconds. They laugh at traps. They dance on bedsheets in the watches of the night and bite the ends of your toes.
A long luscious rat tail is naked and smooth. In my dreams, I crunch and slurp, segment by segment.
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