The Rats of Brooklyn

Back in 1986, during the fist year of our marriage Bonnie and I moved to Brooklyn. Here we were, a girl from Inez, a small town in Kentucky, and me an island boy, trying to find our way around the city. One day we were driving down Utica avenue and decided to stop to get something to eat. We saw a Kentucky Fried Chicken and pulled in to the drive through. There was a line so we were waiting for it to move. We were stopped next to the dumpster. We heard rustling, like there were cats rummaging in there for food. so we both looked over. “Damn, New York have some stay cats.” I said. Bonnie leaned forward and squinted her eyes, “Those are not cats, those are some big ass freaking rats,” she said, I leaned forward, and to my disgust there was about fifteen gigantic rats perched on the roof of the dumpster. So Bonnie and I did what any red blooded country girl and sun soaked island boy would do, we tried to chase them off. Bonnie blew the horn, nothing, the rats were not even phased. I leaned out of the car and banged on the hood, nothing, the dreadful little beasts did not even blink. So Bonnie, brave as she was, stepped out of the car and shouted, thinking they would scatter. but about five of the rats turned and looked at her, you know that look that a man who have not eaten in days would give, you know one that says, “Don’t f….. with me or I will mess you up!” Bonnie got back into the car closed the door and locked it. Hell those damn New York rats acted like humans, we were not going to mess with no mutant rats. That was it, we drove out of the line and went and found us a good Roti shop.

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