I have a rat. Well, either that or the local mice have taken to wearing Doc Martens. He or she lives in the kitchen. We have established an understanding. Ratty will not chew through any wires, nor make too many guest appearances when I am entertaining some chick or other; and on that agreement, I will provide him with a regular supply of bread (Cibiatta, preferably) and cheese ( Brie, or some Port Salut) all washed down with a saucerful of Cotes du Rhone, or Chateauneuf du Pape. Oh, and he will stop chewing through the ceiling. EdZilla suggests that he may be a long lost cousin. Cow! Valkerie thinks he may be my Doppelbanger; funneee – not! Bronco doubts if he can be lesbian. MacBastard wonders if he could be used as a plot device. Eh? Ermintrude simply giggles. And they have all been fulsome with suggestions as to how to get rid of it…
Pests and how to not live with them
EdZ offers the bright idea of reading him extracts from my book, ‘The Final Arbiter’; bitch! Valkerie is convinced that one of my Blogs, put to ‘The Sound Of Music’, would do the trick – but it might constitute cruelty to dumb animals. Bronco firmly believes that it should be left a copy of ‘The Female Eunuch’ to chew on. Mac wants a photo of it for the book cover. Ermintrude says if he goes near her wires, she’ll kick him in the balls. I chance to remark that in my early acting career, when I was about eight years old (Most days you still are; EdZ) I played the part of Ratty in ‘Wind in the Willows’ – to rave reviews. [From his mother. Ermintrude] Bah! However I myself, struggling alone, unloved, uncared for, un… (Get on with it, Twathead! EdZ) Anyway; I’ve discovered a web page thingy which sells a sub-sonic squeaker which will drive the wee soul away. [Unless he’s deaf. Ermintrude] But at least I won’t be able to hear it; which is more than could be said for my two ex-wives. (Poor cows. EdZ)
Oh. And I’ve got to get a hair cut for this Beanfeasto at Edinburgh University. And look tidy. And get some cards printed to hand out. Eh? Saying what? ‘Captain Fabulous – Uber Poser’? Bollocks. But EdZ and MacBastard agree – which is always a bad sign. However if I wish to remain attached to my naughty bitz, I’ll have to cooperate. Bah! I think I’ll go and eat worms. But my book is finished! ‘The Final Arbiter’ has been read and reread by MOI; and also by Otto Von Kritische – the Thinking Man’s Whoopee Cushion. [‘Autocrit’ actually, you complete dipstick! Ermintrude] Apparently big Otto thinks its wonderful. [No he doesn’t. Ermintrude] (How about ‘Pathetic’? EdZ) Anyway; I’d have given him a big kiss apart from his moustaches; and Iron Cross; and photograph of Hitler in his locket; and his duelling scar; and his pet tank, called ‘Theosaurus Rex’. But him and me are best buddies now. Oh bugger! I can’t say ‘now’ now. According to Otto I’ve used up all my year’s supply of them. Pedantic or what?
Which brings me to the small matter of the cover. Of which I have already had a squillion brilliant ideas. Yet been man enough to accept valid criticism from others. (Especially when backed up with threats of massive testicular damage. EdZ) Rather, especially when backed up by the application of rigorous aesthetic critiques.[He means the application of pre-heated sharp, pointy things to his balls. Ermintrude] Humbug! Anyway, the French Letter leaking oil instead of sperm was just a joke. As well as a brilliant homage to Salvador Dali. [He painted melting clocks; not detumescent cocks! Ermintrude] Please. dear reader, try to ignore such intemperate outbursts; it’s probably just penis envy. (Which you’ll be suffering from too, if you don’t belt up! EdZ) Regardless; I still stand by my hooters. [You normally fall between them, from what I’ve heard. Ermintrude] Silence! This is all about ART! Clearly what could be a more powerful metaphor for the heroic angst suffered by the hero than an enormous pair of bronzed, pert 34Ds, fighting it out for the hegemony of the Gossards? Complete with erect nipples. (God, he’s off again! EdZ) [Nurse? Nurse? The medication’s worn off! Ermintrude] Be quiet! You Phyllis de Stines. Even EdZilla agreed that some bras across the cover would be a good idea. (I said ‘bars’ you tithead! EdZ) So the battle goes on. [And if you don’t start cooperating, your balls come off. Ermintrude] But I realise, like all great, visionary writers, I must be prepared to suffer for my art. (Pass the blunt butter knife, would you? EdZ) [Don’t forget the blowtorch. Ermintrude] Eeeek!
John J McCabe. Copyright.