Rats!

As I was standing at the bus stop, I saw something in the dark out of the corner of my eye.

At first I thought it was a squirrel carrying a piece of garbage, but its tail was far too skinny. No, it was a rat. A Norway rat, because living on the waterfront all my life has made me better acquainted with rats than I'd like to be and I've come to know the different species in the area.

No, it was two rats, no, three, all fighting over a piece of garbage. Running dangerously close to my feet, in and out of the bushes, squeaking at each other.

Then all of a sudden it was four, then three, then I couldn't tell. Then after that seven. Seven distinct rats all chasing each other about for the pleasure of having whatever it was in their little mouths, driven so crazy with lust for whatever the hell it was that they abandoned all caution and fought for it about my feet and over my toes.

And there I stood until they all scampered away, thinking to myself that that must have been an altogether ridiculous scene that I had just passively taken part in and thinking that if it had been my mother in my place, she would have most likely jumped out in front of a moving car to get away from them.

Me? I'm not scared of rats.

So began my evening.