A few weeks ago I discovered rats in my barn. I didn’t really mind, it was outside and my cat would catch a few here and there, until I found the nest living under the floorboards and it hit me that there weren’t just a few, but twenty or more. That wasn’t even the worst part, the worst was the dream I had last night ABOUT the rats in the barn.
I was upstairs cooking dinner, but I didn’t have any pasta for my spaghetti so I made my way to the basement, which somehow became my barn (it was a dream, just go with it). The second my foot left the last step and hit the floor, I was ambushed by six giant, foaming at the mouth, rats, and they were pissed. They attacked me and started biting at my ankles and calves, latching their teeth onto any open skin they could see. Shaking myself free I ran for the only thing I could find, an old, beat up tennis racket. Turning back to face my opponents I rapidly began whacking them with the net, but all it did was stun them.
I moved to a better attack, by holding the rats down with the racket and stomping their heads in with my boots, I was able to kill them. I quickly defeated the original six and raised my hands in the air to enjoy my victory, but my celebration was cut off by the thundering sound of millions of rats moving out from behind the walls and from underneath the floors, all towards me. Turning wildly around I saw him, the 8-foot tall rat king. He was devilish and cruel, no mercy shown in his red eyes, and they were the last things I saw before I was avalanched by the wave of rodents.
I woke up: it was 1:30 a.m. Now not only were there rats in the barn, but in my dreams. I will not let this continue. Be it with a tennis racket and boots or ten gallons of bleach or a dump truck of rat poison, these tiny little monsters won’t ruin my good night’s sleep. Tomorrow morning, no matter what the price, I will be getting rid of the rats in my barn.