Rats. Why Did it Have to be Rats?
struck by lightning a month ago- hundreds of identical bathing suits
- over the 4th of July weekend
- and downright durable
- “Do you know to whom you speak?”
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Rats. Why did it have to be rats? The only thing worse than their slithery hairless tails was their enormous testicles. Even if they didn’t manage to devour me, I’d waste precious time fighting them off. And that meant I’d have to touch them. Ugh.
“Move it,” I said to Yoda. From his dumpster-perch I’d be able to reach the roof and make my escape.
“Yourself you should blow,” the horrible little man said.
“Do you know to whom you speak?” I’m embarrassed to admit that was my best attempt at mimicking his backwards syntax.
An obnoxious giggle came from behind the rubber mask. I grabbed the ears with both hands, and tugged. The mask was stretchy and downright durable. I gave up trying to tear it off and instead used the ears as handles to yank the guy off the dumpster and fling him onto the filthy alley pavement. His giggles turned to shrieks as I vaulted up onto the garbage receptacle. The lid sagged under my weight like I was the winner of a hotdog eating contest over the 4th of July weekend. I reached for the roof, but the lid collapsed, dumping me unceremoniously into the trash.
I expected to find myself wallowing in rancid food, but the smell wasn’t any worse inside than it had been out in the alley. Digging around for something solid to stand on to help me climb out, I found nothing but hundreds of identical bathing suits, all singed around the edges.
I suddenly knew where I was. The Contrarian news had been wall-to-wall coverage of a bikini store that was struck by lightning a month ago.
Cold dread trickled down my spine. A notorious fire, swimwear, a strip club, a nearby airport. If Mother brought me to such a location, it could only mean one thing.
bonus points for using them in reverse order