Sunday, August 22, 2004

And every time they’d hear a strange noise, my parents and cousin would turn their heads to look at each other and say “Did you hear that?” Most of the time it was a false alarm, but not today: the rat was hiding behind the fridge. When we moved the fridge it ran to the stove. Being the demons that we are, we turned on the stove’s oven to 450 degrees. As we waited for the rat to leave the stove, my mother exclaimed, “How dare this bitch be eating our food in broad daylight?! Has she no respect for us at all?!”

The kitchen was getting hot. It was becoming a game of endurance, and for a minute there I pictured the rat gleefully watching us sweat. For the rat’s bad luck, however, my cousin had already been part of three rat-hunting expeditions and he wasn’t going to allow this rat the pleasure of starring in a fourth. My father and I left, but returned when we heard that the rat had abandoned the stove. It went from the stove to the china-cabinet, and from there to another kitchen furniture. As it tried to leave its last hideout it came to its death: the family dog caught it. I wasn’t sure what was more traumatizing: watching a rat in a dog’s mouth, or watching my family members scream in delight. Scary stuff.

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