Something Different: “The Rats, a parable”

Note: Today’s post is a departure for the all aspect report. It’s a short story. I’ve dabbled in short fiction in the past, and recently a bolt of inspiration hit when I read an op-ed that compared certain political figures to lab experiments that had escaped (for the life of me, I haven’t been able to find the piece). Anyway, with apologies to Monty Python, now for something completely different….

Once upon a time, in the Land of Big Government, a State Science Laboratory experienced an escape of lab rats. More than 250 got loose when a newly hired tech forgot to flip the master switch that locked all of the cage doors on the second floor of the massive building. As soon as he turned off the lights and headed home for the evening, the animals began squeezing through the gaps in their cage doors and leaping to freedom. A few unfortunates didn’t survive this initial fall, leading to a rather gruesome discovery by the Lab Manager the next morning.

By the time the Manager arrived to discover the carnage a little after 10am that next morning, the rats were rampaging through the city. And by the time she, the Mayor, and the Governor convened a hastily announced press conference the following day, rats already were taking up residence in hundreds of homes. By the end of the week, a state of emergency was declared and the city was put on lock down, for the good of its residents and those in surrounding cities. Residents were told to do everything possible to contain any infestation that might occur in their own houses. A massive run on rat traps and rat poison quickly devolved into a supply chain crisis. The few store owners still able to obtain them, often from the black market, were forced to ration. Prices skyrocketed.

The rats were fatal to many small businesses, especially restaurants and small grocery stores, which Big Government closed for their own good. Overall the city’s economy took a massive hit, because even though relatively few houses and businesses were infested — the original estimates would prove off by an order of magnitude — Big Government nevertheless required everyone to stay home to make sure the infestation didn’t reach them. For their own good.

On the other hand, exterminators had never had so much work. Suddenly they were booked weeks in advance. The especially lucky ones were signed up as members of an emergency, government funded Vermin Eradication Taskforce, or VET. Big Government officials told the individual VETs to spare no expense, money would not be an issue. The Governor declared that moments like this were exactly why Big Government existed, to handle crises that individuals could not possibly handle on their own. The money flowed like a river.

During a televised interview, the Governor intoned gravely, “We will meet this moment. The initial infestation, the cause of which is under investigation by a Blue Ribbon Committee of Subject Matter Experts, knocked us back on our heels. But the situation is well in hand. Make no mistake: Your government will solve the rat epidemic. On that you have my word.”

Unfortunately, Big Government’s initial messaging was confusing to a lot of people. The biggest problem turned out to be the anti-rat campaign’s logo: It was a picture of dead rat laying upside down with x’s on its eyes, with a big red no circle across it, suggesting that the goal of the government’s campaign was to prevent rat deaths. This led to several weeks of contradictory statements and cross-statements from various Big Government officials, until the Governor unveiled a whole new logo, developed at great expense and under considerable urgency, that consisted of a right side up, very obviously alive rat with big glittering eyes, with a no circle through it.

Two weeks into the infestation, a woman who lived in a small house on a small hill a mile from the Lab discovered rats living in the walls and basement of her house. She heard them chomping on wood at all hours. The noise kept her up at night, and when she was able to get a bit of sleep she had nightmares about rats eating her whole house, and even coming for her. They had horrifying red eyes and they were relentless, like zombie creatures. She would wake up in a cold sweat only to hear them chomping. Reality was only slightly less frightening than her nightmares.

The problem was, this particular woman was an animal lover, and loathed the idea of calling an exterminator to place deadly traps and poison throughout her home. As hideous as the sounds of the rats scurrying around and chomping on her walls were, the idea of hearing traps snapping and rodents squealing in agony was more than she could bear. So she went online and researched alternatives to traditional exterminators, hoping she could find a way to get rid of the rats short of killing them.

She discovered that Big Government had established a program within the VETs called Ratz-B-Gone. At no cost to her, the government would send an authorized, background checked VET to her home. He or she would inspect her house, determine approximately how many rats had taken up residence, and recommend a corrective course of action that involved what the website called a “mindful, humane, species-centric relocation processes.”

The woman was elated. The rats in her house were getting more aggressive. They’d started ransacking her kitchen cupboards at night, making off with her bread, pasta, tuna fish tins, crackers, breakfast cereal, even cans of soup. Fearing disease, she threw out all her other food. She put on a face mask and gloves and thoroughly disinfected the cabinets.

Finally, the day came for the VETs to inspect her house. It couldn’t come soon enough. The rats had started eating through the walls and were now roaming throughout her house at all hours. The noxious odor of their excrement choked the air. Her home was fast becoming unlivable. One of the rats even tried to bite her dog. Poor thing hadn’t been the same since.

Two VETs arrived in a brand new Big Government EV SUV. The first one was a burly man with long hair the color of dead leaves and dull gray-brown eyes. His name tag read “Sam Gomez, he/him.” The second was a rotund woman with buzz cut, dyed jet black hair and a landscaping of piercings on their face and ears. Her name tag said “Pat Parker, they/them.” They were both considerably younger than the woman had expected, barely 25. Their monogrammed orange jumpsuits looked brand new, as did their shiny black work boots.

Sam pulled a brand new iPad tablet out of his brand-new courier bag. He tapped the screen and began reading. He told her good morning, and introduced himself and the company. They were both Big Government licensed and approved no-kill Vermin Eradication Technicians, and they were very happy to be of service. Pat nodded along as he read the script.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” the woman exclaimed. “The rats are driving me out of my mind!”

Sam nodded empathetically. He said they could certainly appreciate how trying it could be to have an infestation. But rest assured, he said, as Big Government licensed and approved no-kill Vermin Eradication Technicians, they would definitely be able to assist her. And rest assured, he said, they would proceed in a way that respected the civil rights and civil liberties of all parties involved, most importantly the animals, who when you thought about it were the real victims here.

Then Sam handed the woman the iPad. He told her to review the terms and conditions, then tap the button that says “I AGREE” at the bottom. And then they’d be all set.

Knowing better than to waste time reading a Big Government contract, the woman scrolled through the 20-odd pages and tapped “I AGREE.”

Sam and Pat were pleased. Sam said they were all set and thanked her very much. A VET would be back next Thursday for the formal inspection and remediation.

The woman was accustomed to dealing with Big Government delays and bureaucracies, but she was still gobsmacked. “Wait,” she protested, “I thought you were here to do the work today! I can’t spend another ten days like this, I’ll go mad!”

Pat raised their hands in front of their chest. They emitted a series of sharp ululations that sounded like, woop, woop, woop. They said the woman needed to remain calm. They uttered the word “need” with subtle vehemence. They said this was just the intake phase of her reservation. When they and Sam returned to Headquarters they would go online to confirm all of the information the woman had submitted online. Then, within three to five business days her reservation would automatically become an appointment. Or, if she wished, she could obtain an immediate appointment confirmation after 10am the next morning by paying a small $15 convenience fee.

In desperation, the woman said, “Are there any other VETs that can come sooner? At this point, I don’t care if they kill the beasts!”

Pat shook their head. They explained how the woman was already registered in the Big Government system as a “no kill” client. They said that was why Sam and them were there. They said the only other option would be for the woman to cancel her current registration and re-register with a “do-kill” service provider. She would be charged a small $35 convenience fee and would lose her place in line. That said, they said she probably wanted to keep her original reservation, which again would soon become an appointment, as the wait list for new reservations was up to six weeks.

The woman said, “In ten days I may not have much of a house left to save, much less six weeks.”

Soothingly, Pat agreed that the infestation had been difficult on everyone. They said, at least she got to stay at home during these trying times. They and Sam were essential workers, didn’t she see, and they, the two of them, were out facing the vermin every single day! Did she not understand the enormous risks they were taking on her behalf?

The woman said, “Thank you.” It was all she could think of to say. The rats were gnawing at the floor beneath her feet.

Sam reminded her to be at hom between the hours of 8am and 6pm next Friday. If she should fail to be home when the VET arrived, she would lose her place in line and be charged a small $75 convenience fee. It was all in the agreement she signed, didn’t she see, which also would be emailed to her. Did she have any questions?

“No.”

They thanked her for choosing Ratz-B-Gone for her humane extermination needs, and offered her a wonderful rest of her day.

“You, too.” 

As the woman closed the door, a rat streaked past. It ran over her foot and out the door. She shrieked. Pat stopped dead, took a deep breath, and turned around. They reproached the woman that they didn’t want to have to tell her to remain calm again. They was a Big Government worker, and they was just doing their job as best they could. They didn’t need this from her. Did she think she was the only person in this situation? Her outburst was rather selfish, when you thought about it.

“Wait, you don’t understand. I – I screamed because a rat just ran over my foot.”

They said that was not their concern. They was there to do a job as a public service. They admonished her again that they was risking their own safety. If she had any issues, she could take them up with Big Government Constituent Concerns. Just dial 2-1-1. Meantime, they said, keep your complaints to yourself. They said we are all in this together.

They turned around and walked back to their big SUV, muttering to each other and shaking their heads. The woman closed her door. The rats were in the ceiling now. Here and there little tufts of dust and wood shavings drifted from a joint. She looked at her dog, who appeared as miserable as she felt. “Well, boy, I guess we’re going to have to ride it out.”

The poor mutt just whimpered. She fetched a package of roast beef from the refrigerator and gave him an extra big piece. “My way of saying sorry.”

That night she had a particularly vivid nightmare. She was in the basement hiding from rats that were rampaging all through the city. Only these were enormous, almost human sized rats, and they were ravenous. She could hear people screaming as they were devoured, and she knew there was no escape. In her dream’s eye she simultaneously saw the basement around her and the hideous, bloodthirsty beasts raging outside. They crashed through the door and dozens of them charged at her. As the first gnarled, yellow tooth pierced her flesh she screamed herself awake.

She opened her eyes to see a rat crouching on her stomach. Its red eyes glowed in the dark. This time the scream caught in her throat. She was paralyzed, almost dissociated. The rat stood up slowly on its hind legs. Then it smiled, and said, “Hello, Ms. Mcgillicutty.”

She screamed a second time and shot bolt upright in bed. The grinding, chomping, and chewing sounds were everywhere. She leapt out of bed, snapped the leash on the dog’s collar, and fled to the garage. She practically threw the dog into the back seat, started the car, and zoomed into the night. She was still wearing her nightgown.

Even though it was 3am on a Monday the streets were filled with revelers. Big Government had recently extended the cutoff for alcohol sales to 5am. With the city shut down due to the infestation, there was little else for people to do but drink. Even though the restaurants, parks, churches, and schools were closed, Big Government let the bars and liquor stores and marijuana dispensaries stay open as essential businesses.

Along with the revelers on the streets there were hundreds of tents, battered campers, sorry looking cars, and other makeshift dwellings in which people who had literally been eaten out of home had resorted to living. Many had other places to go, but Big Government was promising brand new homes for everyone who’d been made homeless by the infestation. It would just take a little time and money. The Governor announced a policy of “housing first,” directing billions of dollars toward new home construction. Due to the exigency, the Big Government state legislature passed an emergency package of laws streamlining environmental reviews for new housing. Within two months new apartment buildings under construction proliferated like wild mushrooms throughout the state.  When some people complained that they didn’t want to trade their houses and yards and trees for cramped apartments, they were told there was no other choice, and that they should be grateful Big Government was providing them a new place to live in the first place. Besides, it would be foolish to squander the opportunity the crisis presented to reimagine how people in the state could live more sustainably. 

That night the woman found a parking spot between two RVs in front of a liquor store. It was a brightly lit space, which she figured was safest. She folded down the back seats and cuddled up with the dog. It could have been worse. She scratched behind his ears and said, “Just a few nights, boy. We’ll be fine.”

She didn’t get much sleep that first night, between people knocking on her windows offering alcohol, drugs, food, even companionship, along with the drunken revelers in the street. Still, it was better than the rats.

At 10am she was at a local hardware store looking for rat traps. But the kid behind the counter laughed. “The supply chain is all sorts of screwed up. Big Government is buying most of the traps. We get one shipment every two weeks. But you’re in luck – tomorrow is the day. You want traps, you’ll have to line up in the morning before dawn. If you get here much past 5am you’re out of luck. Oh, and be sure to bring cash. It’s $100 for a package of three.”

“That’s outrageous!”

“Maybe you noticed, there’s an infestation going on. Supply and demand. We’re not selling much else these days so we have to mark up the traps as much as people are willing to pay.”

“That’s profiteering!”

“It’s survival. Either we charge what we charge for rat traps or we go out of business and no one gets traps.”

“Big Government ought to do something. It’s not fair. It seems the only people making any money right now are the exterminators, the liquor stores, and Amazon.”

“Maybe, but just remember what I told you about tomorrow. If you’ve got ‘em, you don’t want to wait two more weeks.”

“I already have to wait ten days for the Big Government VETs.”

“Ten days! You should be thanking your lucky stars. Guy came in yesterday looking for traps, said his appointment is in three months.”

“Outrageous! He won’t have any house left by then! Big Government was supposed to have this in hand. They told us so!”

The kid laughed again. “Geez, I’m only 16 and even I know better than to trust Big Government.”

The woman managed a few hours’ sleep that night. The street was less rowdy on Tuesdays, it seemed, or at least on this Tuesday. She was back at the hardware store at 4am, and already a dozen people were lined up. Several had brought chairs. Should have thought of that, she thought. Next time.

By the time the store opened five hours later more than 100 people had joined the line. The store owner, a skinny man with a bald head, a crooked nose, and a noticeable hunchback, was accompanied by three burly security guards. He barked pugnaciously at his customers, “All right, all right. You all know the drill. Traps are a hundred for three, with a limit of nine per person. We only got 500 this week so if you’re in the second half of the line, consider sparing yourself the wasted time and disappointment. All right, all right, let’s go. Five at a time.”

An hour later the woman was racing home with nine brand new baited rat traps. She brought them down to the basement. The rats scurried when she opened the basement door. The rancid odors of urine and feces hit her full in the face. She gasped. The basement was torn to pieces. Boxes were strewn about, their contents demolished and chewed to bits. To her horror, three rats lay dead and bloodied in the remains of the box that held her collection of antique glass Christmas decorations. The rats had eaten through the cardboard and then eaten the glass. Bloody trails lead to other inert bodies.

Fighting back the urge to vomit she quickly set the traps. She had no way of knowing how many there were, but at least she could try to get rid of a few. Maybe between the horrifying sight of the already dead bodies and the new ones in the traps the survivors would be persuaded to move to fairer shores. Then she laughed out loud at herself for trying to think like a rat.

After another fitful night sleeping in her car, she returned home the next morning. Every trap contained a deceased rodent. She was ecstatic (she had long since decided that rats constituted a thoroughly justified exception to her love of animals).

A week later, she had the immediate threat to her home in hand. There were still a few stragglers, but the vast majority were either dead or gone. Her rat intuition had been right. 

The day before the VET was to arrive she cleaned the house as completely as it had ever been cleaned, down to every nook and cranny, every knot in the hardwood floors. She opened all the doors and windows to ventilate the residual odors. She shampooed the carpets. She went online and ordered a new mattress and bedding on Amazon, same day delivery for a small convenience charge of $29.99. That night she and the dog slept like the dead.

The Big Government VET arrived at 10:30am the next day, a middle aged man with broad shoulders, strong arms, and a shaved bald head. He was at least 6’5”, and unlike Sam and Pat his jumpsuit was stained and faded from years of work. The woman was relieved, he looked the part.

He told her to take a load off, maybe have a glass of wine. She decided she’d earned it. She cracked open a bottle of Chardonnay and poured a healthy glass. She sat at her kitchen table with her feet up, lest a critter happen by. The dog snoozed placidly by her side.

She heard the man walking around in the basement. He tapped on the ceiling and the walls, which sent the few remaining rats scurrying. Oh, it was such a disconcerting sound! She couldn’t wait for the state VET’s recommendations.

He tromped back upstairs a few minutes later. He was grinning. Cheerfully, he told that the good news was that she had a pretty standard case. Nothing he’d never seen before. He told her she’d been very smart to set those traps, otherwise the house probably would have been overrun by the time he got there.

That was the thing, though, he said. They had to move fast. He said he’d found at least one new nest, and a new burrow hole from the outside. He told her not to worry, he had  put down some organic no-kill anti-rat powder, and sealed the new hole. He told her he would be back tomorrow to finish the job. After he left she went down and reset all the traps. That evening she heard a couple of them snap. The squeals didn’t bother her nearly as much as she’d feared. She actually felt a bolt of relief.

Again, she and the dog slept peacefully that night.

The VET was back after lunch on Friday. He told her that her worries were over once and for all, for he’d come up with a permanent solution. He seemed quite pleased. For the first time since the start of the infestation the woman felt a spark of hope.

The VET went back to his brand new Big Government van, and retrieved a sign and hanger. She assumed it was a Ratz-B-Gone sign, a little free advertising on her property while he worked. She didn’t begrudge him. She thought the cement base was overkill, but as long as the rats would be gone once and for all she didn’t care. After he did his job she’d be happy to be an advertisement.

The sign he set was not a company ad, however. As he set the wood stand into the quick dry concrete, she saw a sign with a black background and blood red letters. It said:

Vermin prohibited from this property, per Mun. Code §21007.33(a)(5)(ii-iv); Violators subject to citation and fine

The VET slapped the dust off his hands, loaded his tools back in the van. He gave her two small cardboard signs identical to the one he’d just installed on her lawn. He told her that if she wanted to reinforce the prohibition she could put identical signs on her front door and basement door. She was free to choose.

The woman was perplexed. “When are you going to get rid of the remaining rats?”

He told her he just had. At the beginning of the infestation the City Council had passed a new law prohibiting rats and other vermin from properties within city limits that met certain requirements. Winking, he said that of course the language of the new law covered houses like hers. He said that all he’d had to do was add her address to the official registry. Easy peasey. 

“But I don’t understand,” said the woman. “Rats can’t read.”

This observation gave the Big Government VET pause. He stroked his chin, then nodded and told her you know what, you’re absolutely right. He shook his head and chuckled ruefully. Dadgummit, he said, in their rush to pass the new law the City Council hadn’t thought it all the way through. He laughed some more. You see, this is why citizen feedback is so important to Big Government! He promised to fix the problem immediately, and return the following day. Meanwhile he offered to put down more organic no-kill rat powder. 

“Thank you, but I already did. I’m sure you saw, but I think there are only two or three rats left in the house. Hopefully by the time you come back tomorrow, the problem will be solved.”

He nodded again and agreed that it was always best when things just sort of took care of themselves.

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly,” the woman replied, “I’ve been working my tail off to get rid of these rats – rats that Big Government was responsible for releasing in the first place.”

The Big Government VET gave her a sort of perplexed look. Whatever the case, he said, he would be back tomorrow.

“Actually,” said the woman, “I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll catch the last of them tonight, maybe even this afternoon. I would like to cancel my reservation.”

Now the VET looked really confused. He explained that her reservation had become an appointment, and by regulations he was not allowed to terminate an appointment until he had determined in his professional judgment that the property in question was completely free and clear. Even one left could still be a problem, you see. Also, she had signed up for the no-kill program, meaning she was technically in violation of the law by setting traps herself. He said that he’d let it slide for now, but if she did it again he’d have no choice but to cite her. The fines could be as high as $500 per rat, didn’t she see. So it would be best for her to leave it to the professionals. After all, he said with a smile, that’s why we pay taxes!

The woman didn’t protest any further. She’d navigated a thicket of rules and regulations since the infestation began, and she was simply exhausted. The VET told her to be home between 8am and 6pm tomorrow, Sunday.

“Yes, yes,” she said, “or else I’ll be charged a small $75 convenience fee.”

Actually, he said, walking back to his van, the small convenience fee for missing or cancelling a follow-up appointment was $175.

The next morning she went down into the basement and discovered three more rats had been trapped and killed. That was all of them. She took all of the traps from the basement and hid them in a shrub next to her back fence. She didn’t like hiding from Big Government, but she felt she had no choice. The new laws, which she hadn’t even heard about, were confusing and contradictory. 

Finally, she went online and canceled her reservation, or appointment, or whatever it was, with Ratz-B-Gone, and paid the small $175 convenience fee. She scratched the dog behind the ears. “That’s it, boy. It’s over.”

She and the dog were resting in the backyard later that afternoon, she with a glass of Chardonnay (during the infestation she was getting into the whole day drinking thing) and he with a soup bone, when the Ratz-B-Gone exterminator rolled up in his van again. When he rang the doorbell she slugged back the whole glass and muttered, “For crying out loud.”

She opened the door. “You told me I couldn’t cancel my appointment, but I did so online last night. I paid the small convenience fee. I’m afraid you’re wasting your time.”

He said they had received her cancellation, and processed it. It went through, along with the small convenience fee.

“And they had you drive all the way out here just to tell me that?”

He smiled and said not exactly. Coincidentally, her address had come up in their new, random selector for spot checks this morning. It’s completely arbitrary, happens all the time, he said. He just had to do a quick walk through (regulations, doncha know, he said) and he would be on his way.

Fighting back the words the wine was telling her to say, she said, “Fine, do what you have to do.” She went back outside and poured another glass. The dog chomped happily away on his bone.

She heard the VET walk down to the basement and open the door, heard him stomping and scratching around. A few minutes later he came back upstairs. He called from the front door that everything looked good. Just needed her signature.

She slugged her second glass. “Always something,” she grumbled. She opened the front door and took the brand new iPad from the VET. As she was about to sign on the digital line, a rat raced across the back lawn to the porch, ran over his feet, and dashed out the front gate and down the street.

The VET snatched the iPad out of the woman’s hands. He tapped the screen a few times and pulled up a different form.

He said, “Ms. Mcgillicutty, I’m afraid I have to cite you for violating City Municipal Code Section 21007.33(a)(5)(ii-iv, presence of vermin in a private detached home. The fine starts at $500 and may increase depending on various factors of which the Court will inform you on your hearing date, which will be in approximately two months. There’s quite the backlog at the courts, as you can imagine. You’re hardly the first person to try to bend the rules during the infestation. This is, of course, a correctable citation. You will be provided with a list of Big Government approved and licensed exterminators, and you will be free to choose one of your liking and make a reservation. At present the wait list is approximately ten to twelve weeks.

“I must also admonish you that merely having a reservation with a VET is no guarantee that the Court will agree to dismiss your charges. The Court will determine based on relevant factors, of which you will be apprised on your hearing date. Finally, I strongly urge you not to be idle. Between now and your Court date you should take all reasonable measures to ensure eradication of any vermin that may appear on your property. Because you remain on the no-kill list you are prohibited from using traps, poison, firearm, bow and arrow, slingshot, large rock, or any other means of fatal extermination. You will be subject to random, unannounced spot checks on your property between now and your hearing date to ensure compliance. Compliance makes it more likely that you’ll receive a favorable decision, though again it is no guarantee.

“Should a spot check turn up any of the aforementioned fatal means of eradication your fine will immediately increase to $5,000. Depending on the severity, you may also face the possibility of imprisonment for no more than 90 days.

“Ms. Mcgillicutty, I’m sorry to have to do this. But this infestation has been a challenge for all of us, and we all have to do our part. After all, we’re in this together! I hope you know and appreciate that Big Government is doing everything in its considerable powers to meet the moment and bring this infestation to a quick, safe, and equitable end, so that we all can get back to our normal lives. We are getting closer every day.

“Thank you for your understanding and cooperation. Have a lovely rest of your Sunday evening.”

THE END