*Fiction NOT Fact
[ANOTHER WARNING: All characters portraying rats in this story are purely fictitious in nature and should not be confused with real rats or with any rats you know personally.]
Imust have fallen asleep instantly when my head and the pillow made intimate contact. The day had proven all too exhausting and strenuous, not only physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. It had started out with the laborious house cleaning Harriet had insisted I help her with, and then shifted to the Ms. PT affair, and finally ended with—of all things—snake wrangling. Snarky had really proven too much for me.
At 2:00 A.M. there was a knock on my bedroom door. When I opened it a crack, I could see it was Andy. I mean, like who else would it be? . . . Snarky?
"Ellee," he whispered.
"Yes," I whispered, too, following his lead, "why are you whispering?"
"Uhhh . . . well, I don’t know. I mean, it’s late . . . I guess I didn’t want to wake you.
"Ummmm . . . but Andy, you just did."
" Did what?"
"Wake me—just now . . . when you knocked on my door."
"Oh . . . I’m sorry, Ellee . . . I didn’t mean to wake you."
"Then why did you knock on my door?"
"Oh . . . well . . . ummmm . . . " He seemed somewhat confused. I thought maybe he was still suffering oxygen-deprivation.
"Andy, what do you want?" I asked, tilting my head slightly, expecting some kind of explanation. "Why did you knock on my door?"
"It’s Snarky!"
"What about Snarky?" I was alarmed. "He didn’t break out again did he?"
"No, but . . . but . . . I mean, that’s the point, he will soon if he doesn’t get fed. So, I was wondering . . . hoping actually . . . if maybe . . . I mean like . . . could you . . . ummmmmm . . . tomorrow morning, early . . . would you like to go with me to find some rats?"
"Rats?? . . . where do you find rats in New York City? I mean . . . do they sell rats at the pet store?
"No," he replied, "well, actually they do, but Snarky needs bigger ones. We have to go hunting for them."
"Hunting? Where?" I asked.
"In the sewers, under the city," came the reply. "Can you be ready at 6:00 am?
After I agreed to meet him at 6:00 a.m. sharp, I went back to bed and once again fell promptly asleep, but awoke early as thoughts flooded my mind about what the day would bring, considering Andy and I were going rat hunting. I had never been rat hunting before. How does one rat hunt, I wondered? I had a lot of questions. I mean, do you have special clothes, and gear? Do you use guns or knives or nets? But when I met Andy at the front door, all he had was a pillow case—no traps or cages—just one faded-blue pillow case. It didn’t even have any pictures of little rats on it!
He was dressed in tight jeans and navy blue T-shirt. Luckily I wore my tight jeans, too, but my T-shirt was light blue. Still, we looked good together. I had my hair pulled back in a ponytail, and he had his . . . uhhh . . . well the same as usual—sheared close to his scalp, like his stylist had just finished a twenty-year stint as a barber in the Marine Corp.
"Good morning, Ellee . . ." His eyes were twinkling—most likely from the excitement of the hunt. Men get that look in their eyes when they’re about to embark on a hunt. I see it each year in the eyes of my brothers just before the bull elk hunt. I think it must be a primal instinct sort of thing. All men have it.
The sun had not yet found its way over the tall New York skyline when we emerged from Andy’s building, but it wasn’t dark, either—only gray. There was a taxi waiting for us. Andy opened the door and let me in, then ran around to the other side and jumped in next to me. We went several blocks before the taxi stopped, letting us out. Then we began walking. As we walked he did not say much. I didn’t either, but I was thinking a lot. Then it occurred to me—this was our FIRST DATE! Andy had actually asked me out on a DATE! We were going RAT HUNTING! I was so excited! However, after thinking about it for a minute, I decided I had better confirm this with him, just to make sure we were on the same page, so I said, but shouldn’t have,
"Andy, this is our FIRST DATE, right?"
He didn’t say anything right away, like he had to assimilate and then categorize what I had said. Then all at once, he reached out and grabbed my elbow, spinning me around to face him. He looked directly in my eyes and said,
"DATE!!?? ! Is THAT what you think?" His look was one of disbelief. "You think this is a DATE! !?? Ellee, this is NOT a date! I didn’t ask you out on a DATE! Why would you think this is a DATE?"
Now I don’t know how this would affect you, but me . . . I was left speechless. I really didn’t know how to respond. How would you have responded? What would you have said to Andy? Well, what I finally said was,
"Soooooorry . . . my mistake!" I mean, what else could I say?
"And pleeeeese," he added, "do not call me ‘Andy' any more, my name is ‘Anderson.’ "
I couldn’t believe how upset he was that I had somehow, through faulty thinking, misconstrued this as a DATE.
We continued walking, in silence, for a little bit further, until we came to one of the entrances to NYC’s sewers. And there in front of it was a huge sign that read: "RATS THIS WAY" with a large arrow pointing to the entrance of the sewer. This struck me as odd, so I asked Andy,
"Why is this sign here? I mean, what is its purpose? Why do they need to advertise where the rats are in NYC? Why do they even WANT to advertise where the rats are? Don’t you think they would want to HIDE the fact that there are rats down there? Andy this doesn’t make any sense to me. Does it make sense to you? Andy? . . . Andy?" He wasn’t answering me. "Andy, does it make sense to you that . . . "
"Ellee . . . will you please . . . shut up? You need to be quiet! You’ll scare the rats!"
Well, fine! . . . I wasn’t going to ask him any more questions. And besides, the rats would probably scare US.
As we entered the intestines of New York City that stretch for miles and miles underground, successfully cleansing the metropolis of all its impurities, our eyes had to adjust to the dim light inside. It was cold and wet and the stench was almost overwhelming. We could hear the water drizzling down the sides of the green and brown moss-covered walls , and into the canal below. The humidity hung heavy on our skin, and I immediately felt contaminated as the micro droplets began collecting on my face. I tried wiping them off, but still thought I could taste its disgusting foulness, even after I scoured my lips with the back of my hand. If this were a DATE—which Andy said it was not—then it was the strangest date I had ever been on, and the most disgusting. Maybe Andy was right when he denied date status to this adventure.
Although we had to strain to see as we came in from the outdoors, we didn’t have to strain to hear the clickety-click of thousands of tiny little rat toenails as they scurried along the cement side paths. We didn’t see them at first, but we could hear them. The sound sent unpleasant chills racing all over my body, and I sensed that just maybe I was going to panic at any moment if one of them suddenly became visible.
I have been in the sewer systems of major cities all over the world. Paris, Rome, Bangkok, Shanghai, Cairo, London, you name it—I was there, but this was the worst I had ever seen or smelled, or felt!!
As we made our way down the slippery—as in rat feces—cement side path, I was becoming a little uneasy. Okay, I admit it, I was really becoming freaked out—this was one disgustingly scary place! One misstep on my part and I could end up having a close encounter of the feculence kind with the slimy floor! I grabbed hold of Andy’s arm figuring he might wrench it away, but he didn’t. Maybe he was scared, too. I decided to risk one more question and ask,
"Who do you usually bring with you to help catch rats?"
"No one," came his reply. "I always come alone."
After a moment, the impact of that statement sank in. Well, then, I reasoned, if he always comes alone, why did he ask me to come with him today? Maybe, just maybe, this WAS a DATE! Then he said, his eyes wide with anticipation,
"You know . . . the rats in the NYC sewers are the biggest in the world."
"No, they’re not." I countered. "The rats in the sewers of Shanghai are the biggest in the world."
"How do you know that?" he asked, eyeing me as he raised one eyebrow, my hand still clutching his arm for security.
"Well, I wrote my thesis on it in graduate school."
"You mean . . . you have a masters’ degree in . . . in sewers?
Ellee . . .why would . . ."
Just then a rat ran up my leg, causing me to scream and leap into Andy’s arms, who at that moment also became engaged with a rat of his own, that had dropped down from the ceiling and landed on what remained of his silver-grays. He began batting at his head trying to dislodge HIS rat, while I was brushing violently at MY rat, trying to get him off my leg before he could sink his tiny sharp teeth into my flesh, and all during this, Andy was struggling not to drop me on that awful cement walkway.
"Quick," he urged, now dangling his rat by the tail, "open the pillowcase and I’ll stuff this one in."
Which I did, and as he was bagging HIS rat, I grabbed the tail of MY rat and tried stuffing him in, too, but MY rat didn’t want to be in the same bag with HIS rat, so he jumped out and scurried away. Just then another rat seemingly flew through the air and landed on my chest near my neck. His beady, little rat eyes were glowing as he tried to stare me down with a look that spoke of victory. But I showed him just how short-lived that victory was when I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and chucked him in the bag with Andy’s rat. Thankfully this one didn’t try to get out at all.
I then looked at Andy and he looked at me, and we giggled—we had bagged our rats! And he hadn’t even dropped me in the process.
It was now time to get out of that hellhole. So, he set me down and we started back up the cement walkway, only to be stopped by a very large pack of angry rats that were hissing, and jumping and crawling over each other, seemingly to get at us, maybe to avenge the capture of their siblings. When we tried stepping around them, they would rush in to block our route. We tried kicking at them, but that only made them more aggressive as they lunged at us, defying us to advance any further. Everyone of them had viciously bared their teeth in a display of terror. And indeed, I was terrified!
"Andy, what do we do, now?"
When I looked to him for help, I could see his eyes were darting all over the place, trying to figure out what to do next. Finally, seeing no immediate escape, he seized my hand and yelled, "Run, Ellee, fast!!" And so we did, so fast, in fact, that we heard several of them yelp as we trapped them under our feet. When I screamed, hearing their cries, Andy shouted,
"Don’t stop! Just keep running! Don’t listen to their yowlings! Focus, Ellee, focus!"
When we eventually made it out of that cesspool of muck and scuzz, or more formally known as, The New York City Wastewater Rehabilitation and Collection System for Sanitation and Environmental Preservation, we were struggling for air with deep, rapid breaths.
Finally, after catching our breath, Andy held up the rat bag and grinned, and then looking at me said,
"Hey, Ellee, we bagged our rats!"
And sure enough, we had done just that—the two of us together, I might add. We were hunting buddies now.
On the way back to Andy’s in the cab, the two rats started fighting and making all sorts of noises—screeching and hissing.
"What’s goin’ on back there?" the cabbie asked.
"Nothing," Andy said aloud to the cab driver. "Ellee," he then whispered to me, "we’ve got to keep these rats quiet or he will make us get out and walk."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because of the new law which went into effect last Monday, which states that no cab company can legally transport any animal which has the potential to transmit bubonic plague."
"I’ve never heard of that law," I said, which I hadn’t. I wondered if he had just made it up.
"Did you just make that up?" I asked.
"No, why would I make it up?"
"I don’t know, it just doesn’t sound right to me."
"Well, it IS a law."
He was quite emphatic about it. Nevertheless, we could NOT keep the two plague carriers quiet. In fact, if anything their fighting was escalating. I was thankful we had the bag to contain them. However, after a few minutes of this fighting, I noticed a tiny little rat’s toenail sticking out of the fabric of the pillowcase. And then I saw a tiny little tooth appear, and then another one.
"Andy," I said softly, "they’re eating and clawing their way out of the bag!"
I had no sooner said this, than they tore the fabric to shreds, setting themselves free!
"Ellee, keep the driver busy while I try and get control of these little beasts."
"What are you two doing back there?" The cab driver's tone and pitch indicated he thought something untoward was going on. I leaned on the back of his seat and whispered in his ear.
"Oh, you know . . . I mean . . . how do I say this? This is kind of embarrassing , but . . . well . . . uhhh . . . "
I could hear Andy chasing the rats around the back seat, and the amount of kerfuffle going on was quite considerable.
"I didn’t give him his medications before we left and . . . well . . . what can I say . . . he just gets totally out of control without them. Mister . . . this is causing me so much stress and embarrassment, could you just pretend like nothing is wrong? That would really set my mind at ease."
"Oh . . . yeah . . . sure," he said, giving a quick, furtive glance in his review mirror, wanting to see for himself. "It’s okay . . . really . . . don’t think anything about it. I’ll just look the other way."
"Thank you so much, you really are very kind," I responded.
He gave me an understanding nod, then averted his eyes and pretended everything was cool—like total chaos wasn’t in full swing in his back seat. Andy was lunging this way and then that way, grappling with those rats, first up on the seat, then down on the floor, then back on the seat, bashing into the door and flying across the seat, bouncing every which way uncontrollably as he tried desperately to seize the recalcitrant rats. And the rats . . . well they . . . were . . . they were . . . MATING!!!!!
"Andy," I said slapping my hand over my mouth to stifle the outcry of my shock, "The rats—are . . . are . . . are . . ."
"I . . . I . . . I know. . . !" he managed to get out with some difficulty. He was coughing and gasping, also in shock, as realization dawned on him. And the rats were screaming in their high-pitched, shrill voices, all the while in the throes of rat you-know-what!!! At that point in the fracas, I heard the cabbie mumble to himself as he shook his head in disbelief,
"Poor soul!" And then he motioned for me to approach him.
"How long does this usually last?" he wanted to know.
"Well, sometimes for hours." I answered.
"Oh, that poor, poor man! Is there anything I can do?"
"Yes . . . get us home as fast as possible."
At that he pressed on the pedal and the cab lurched forward, rapidly picking up speed.
By the time we arrived back at Andy’s place, Andy had managed to tie the two rats’ tails together in a square knot, and knock them out cold with his fist. Order had finally been restored to the back seat, and we were able to exit the cab with some form of dignity, although the two rats were dangling from Andy’s hand.
On the way up in the elevator I made a suggestion which Andy didn’t care for.
"Andy, since one of these rats is a girl, and the other is a boy, we could name the girl, Rhoda and the boy, Rodney. Don’t you think that would be cute?"
"Cute . . . CUTE ??? There’s nothing CUTE about it! . . . " he denied, but I continued,
"You know, like Rhoda Rat and Rodney Rat. Or even Rhoda and Rodney Rat, since they’re obviously married, now."
"Elleeee! They’re NOT obviously married now! Why would you say that?"
"Because, Andy . . . you know . . . they . . . you know . . . they did the married thing . . ."
"That doesn’t make them maaaaaried, Elleeee! And besides . . . that’s just asinine, utterly ridiculous and stupid! If you give these rats names, how do you think you’ll feel when you have to feed them to Snarky? Will you just open up the door and say, ‘Snarky, hey dude, how’re ya doin’? Here’s Rhoda and Rodney Rat, a lovely couple, Bon appetite!’ How do you think you’ll feel THEN, Ellee? Well, I can tell you right now, you’re gonna feel terrible sacrificing your pet rats to a snake. I know, because I did it once. Just once. I named one of the rats that I caught, Mr. Haversham. And when I fed him to Snarky, I cried for a week. So, we’re NOT naming these rats anything. As far as we’re concerned, they’re just anonymous rats! They don’t know us—we don’t know them. They don’t mean anything at all to us! You get the picture, Ellee?"
Indeed, I did, once Andy had explained it to me. These rats were unknown to us. Just nameless faces in the rat crowd. Besides, if you’ve seen one rat, you’ve seen them all—they all look alike, so there is no real reason to give them a name! So, that was decided.
Once we were up in the apartment, we ran to Snarky’s room hoping he hadn’t gone hunting on his own once again. We were relieved to discover he had not. We then carefully opened the speak-easy door and tossed in Mr. and Mrs. Anonymous Rat, who were still unconscious, and still had no names. It wouldn’t be until they were both fully awake, and running around that the snake would be interested. Until that time the adoring Rat couple were tenuously safe.
Andy left soon after that to get to the CNN studios for the rest of the day. And the more I thought about our early morning rat adventure, the more I realized, that no matter how Andy characterized, OR refuted it, there was one thing clear in MY mind—we had had our FIRST DATE!
Bye for now,
Love,
Ellee
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