Ratman Returns

Hello, my dearies.  Today I shall tell you another story in the long and winding saga of Ratlandia.  Our story begins here: My story of rats and a perpetual fire.  

Let's move on now to chapter twelveteenhundred.  

As our story opens, the Jefferson's ratpartment building has been torn down and burned up.  We begin with an ignored (or really an unheard) knock upon the door by Mr. Ratman himself at the house of Ms. Daisy Princess.  Since he was not heard, he meanders along the perimeter of the castle in the ever-pressing effort toward rooting out and exterminating the evil rat population.  Ratman is looking over fences, squinting and doing is best to use his eagle-eye peering skills to spy out any trace of rat harbor.

Ms. Princess exits her castle to greet Mr. Ratman.  Ratman asks permission to spy out the outer gardens (a.k.a. the backyard in other vernacular) and she grants permission to do so.  Ratman tells her that she must excavate her properties outbuilding (= prefabbed shed).  She assures him that the rat population is not being harbored in her grounds and isn't there something we might be able to work out?  She loves her dear properties outbuilding (shed) because it keeps the stinky gasoline powered equipment out of her carriage house (a.k.a. garage).  Ratman flinches in a moment of pity and admits that perhaps her properties outbuilding (shed) may just quite actually fall under a certain clause wherein, due to it's size (smallishness), it may escape total and utter destruction.  It may, if Princess could twinkle nice enough-ly, even have a chance that it would neither be required to move out of it's current location nor be annihilated.  But in order for this to occur, it must be moved for an inspection to verify that there aren't any ratty ratsicles building ratpartments beneath the twinkling, sparkly, lovely properties outbuilding.

Glory!  Princess smiles thankfully and promises to keep an eye out for ratness and says that she will indeed move her properties outbuilding (shed) for him to come back and inspect with all of his eagle-eye might. 

Prince Charming, however, is the one to do the moving.  Princess would not be the one to tip a properties outbuilding (prefab shed) upon her sparkly self (even though she is obviously so tough she could handle it, yet she prefers not to, strictly out of principle).  Thus, Prince Charming moves the properties outbuilding (shed) and tips it on its side (after it was emptied, of course.  We're not that daff.). 

Princess was a little disturbed when the properties outbuilding was tipped as she found a white, flattened, disintegrating (approaching skeleton-ism), gigantic rat beneath her outbuilding.  It was quite the size of a cat.  Or an opposum.  Or Michael Jordan's shoe.  Whatever.  Gigantic.  Not normal.  Like it had eaten a quarter of a cow when it was on sale.  In one sitting.

Because these things are disgusting and disturbing, Princess decided the very best thing to do with Rat Cat was to obviously get Prince Charming to dispose of it and pretend it never happened.  Tut, tut!  And with a dusting off of the hands, *poof*, Rat Cat was gone.

I'm pretty sure that thing could have been a source of food for an entire rat army.

So let's not tell Mr. Ratman and pretend we didn't notice it.  Announcement: this didn't happen!  No rats here!  Excellent.  Well, no live ones and neither are there any rat tunnels.  (I bet that thing got in there and was so huge it couldn't find a way out.  Ten years ago.  Maybe I should have sold the rat skeleton on ebay.  Oh well.)

Where were we?

Ah yes, nothing to be concerned about.  So sparkly Princess and Mr. Ratman must meet again.  Mr. Ratman comes out, inspects the lovely area where the castle's outbuilding sat (and is now at this point quite sideways on the ground), puffs triumphantly, waves his magic wand and violá - issues the magic ticket!  "Approved". 

Team Sparkle and the Outbuildings: 1,   Ratsicles: 0

Unfortunately, the moving of the building has created an uneven ground wherein now there are gaps in areas abutting the shed, er, properties outbuilding.  They're just right for a rat family to move right in and make themselves at home.  Thanks, Ratman.

I'm glad we had this enlightening experience. 

Please join us next time for another exciting adventure (cue theme song) in the life of...(bum ba da bum!) Ms. Daisy Princess!

Oh rats! (and a perpetual fire)

Okay, so.  I live in a neighborhood where peeps are trying to get the heck out.  In that effort, some people just leave.  Pack up and go find somewhere else.  This leaves a pile of empty and foreclosed homes.  Now let me tell you who loves this: not me.  But rats, oh baby, rats dig this.  Which, I'm pretty sure, makes this place even more appealing.  It really does(N'T!!).  But if you are a rat family looking to build a home, this is the perfect place.  You can get yourself a 3 bedroom fix-er-upper for no money down!    Well, anyway.  

In an effort to keep the people population greater than the rat population, the local government has put safeguards into place (because they are trying to avoid the Guiness book for Rat City, USA).  One of these safeguards is that all peeps with firewood must dispose of it immediately.  Like yesterday.  Like unless you like rat-a-tat-tats nibbling out posh apartment buildings with their cheese-chompers.  I was a bit bummed to lose firewood, but the thought of rats singing the theme song to the Jeffersons in my backyard made me feel even worse so I had to come up with the disposal plan.  I would really like to chip it up, get some lovely mulch, so let's explore that.  The local handy dandy hardware store will be oh-so-generous and allow me to rent a chipper for around $200 (don't forget the insurance and tax - oooowwwwww!!!! My leg!!!!  Wait, why do they require insurance again?).  Perhaps no.  Maybe some tree service peeps will be strolling this way with a chipper and want to do me a flavor (yes, I said flavor) and chipper it upper.  They'll get back to me on that (a la don't call us, we'll call you).  

Then it happened.  The cheapness thought struck.  Burn baby, burn!  So around somewhere in the middle of the morning, I began celebrating the end of summer with a bonfire.  And rat apartment nation negation began.  It ended sometime over twelve hours later, a hunk of ratty wood here, a hunk of ratty wood there.  I woke up this morning and tossed the paper garbage in that empty fire pit and viola!  The fire woke up again and started burning.  Might as well toss on another log.  Or two.  Or fifteen.  

I am pretty sure the energy output I've got going on over here could pretty much fuel El Salvador for a month.  In the winter.  Where its...88 degrees every...day...nevermind...

I meant fuel all of Alaska.  For 12 minutes.  In the summer.  If only I had a tube that could send all of this energy that way.  Oh well.  One can have lofty goals, now, eh?

For me, for now, I shall sit here, relaxin' with my tower-o-flame and ponder the important things of life with a glass of kombucha, for example, how did early people discover fire in the first place?  Why do rats multiply faster than anything?  Why does that neighbor's dog weigh 200 pounds?  What subset of the populace could I get to like rats singing the Jefferson's theme song enough that I could make money on it?  All very ponderous man, really ponderous.

I remain, yours truly - peace, love and kombucha,
Ms. Daisy