![[Buy Opera!]](http://promote.opera.com/banners/opera/windows/ow-get-00-en-mic.gif){kind=small}
Rats
There is a church in a town near to the Alchemist (near in a purely geographical sense you understand) – the church sits in a church square.
This square is a very convivial spot in almost every respect. There are sunny benches and shady trees – there is a chip shop, a sandwich shop and a bakery – there is an endless supply of anonymous passers by to entertain one. It is, in short a nice place for a weary Alchemist to eat his lunch, even on a mid November day when the sun sheds not an erg of warmth.
There is only one element which keeps this place from perfection, or something very like it.
It’s the rats. Hundreds of ‘em.
Sometimes it seems like I am the only man who sees them, but this cannot be the case, for other people feed them. I saw it today, a woman had finished her lunch, and had a handful of chip-detritus, little slivers of crispy chaff which one finds at the bottom of the styrofoam dish. Without a though she cast these fragments to the ground. Instantly there was a flutter as the rats abandoned the church roof and flew down to consume the fried treat.
Bated now the rats cast about for more food – they spy the Alchemist and thirty seconds after that unthoughtful woman finished her lunch, I find myself besieged by diesis-spreading crap-disseminating airborne rats. Well tank’ee very much missy, I was enjoying my lunch.
Naturally I have a crack at kicking those rats within range – their reflexes are superior (remember, they are used to people trying to kick them), and their courage such that I cannot dissuade them with mere violence. I know that the only thing which can dispel the flock of rats is someone else drawing them off with food.
I suppose it never occurs to these beneficent fools that the reason the church square is full of vermin is that people keep feeding them – these philanthropists probably imagine that the rats are there to make the place a more entertaining and enlivened centrepiece for the town.
I suspect that today is the last time I will eat in the square for many a long and wintry day, however, the next time I go I will bring my bum-bag. Y’see, although the rats are generally too quick for me to get my Doc Martins to tell against them, I have had some luck with the long nylon strap on m’bag. Let me tell’ee, that makes the feathery bastards think twice.
We used to shoot rats in the grain store with 9mm pistols which was fun - no wonder they banned us from having them. These days we just have to resort to the trusty .410 shotgun.
You are welcome to borrow it, although knowing what ‘the church’ is like these days, you might just find yourself in a spot of hot water!
Comment by Mr Free Market — November 14, 2005 @ 4:30 pm