Yeah, you read right, my musophobic reader. I killed two rats today. It was quite an adventure, actually.
I was awakened this morning at about ten til seven by a phone call from my two female colleagues. They were just next door in the church and had been there for about an hour. "What's going on?" I asked groggily. "THERE'S A RAT IN OUR TOILET AT HOME!!!". "He's swimming around in our toilet," said Gloria, practically shouting. "OK, let me get some clothes on and I'll go over there."
There he was, swimming furiously in an already polluted commode. The disgusting details aren't suitable for publication. I deftly plunged the plunger down over the thing, only to realize that there was enough air in the domed rubber to keep the beast alive for at least four years. I was finally able to get the plunger down on his neck and actually hold him under water until he drowned. Cruel, I know, but really, how DO you properly deal with a rat in the toilet of an apartment inhabited by three highly emotionally charged females? Do tell.
"Well," I thought, "while I'm in the rat killin' mood, I may as well go kill the one in the church kitchen." So we trekked back to the church and prepared our attack on the dining hall. We sealed off the swinging kitchen door and rattled all the appropriate pots and pans in the cabinets. We moved everything. In the process we uncovered a half eaten bag of Cheetos, several "deposits" made by said rodent and another bag of hot chili pepper chips, also opened by out dexterous pest. All to no avail. No rat.
The last fortress for the critter had to be the little closet in the corner of the dining hall proper. Effectively sealing off the doorless opening, and armed by the moral support of my fearless (?) cohorts, I began the rather unnerving process of removing bags and boxes. "At any moment that thing could come out and jump on me," I thought as I warily hauled out yet another bag. There goes the Christmas garland. There go the blankets for the needy. There goes another bag of unidentified odds and ends. Finally, I had the rascal's hideout narrowed down to a black plastic bag with a torn bag of cement inside. Sure enough, he was moving around. I hit the bag with the broom and he squealed. It was an exhilarating chase as he leaped from the bag and ran to and fro, narrowly missing my already trembling feet. His demise is fraught with details too gory to post here, but suffice it to say, he shall no longer rip our chip bags open with reckless abandon, leaving an "almost" untouched pile of chips inside.
Well, that was enough to drive me into a Spring Cleaning frenzy which lasted until about 7:40pm, around which time the women began to appear for their craft meeting.
Needless to say, it's been a very productive day thanks to the surprising appearance of two very persistent rats. Need I mention, I hate them with a passion?