It had
been a long day at work and the drive home was a tiresome process. Driving
through the valley woods, a rat scuttled out of the underbrush and dashed
across the road. Not unusual and I never even faltered my speed until the rat
stopped. I have no idea why I would slow down, let alone stop for a rat but I
did. It was probably the fact that, yes, the rat had stopped but he was also
standing on its hind legs with both fore paws held out as if to say "Whoa
!!! Stop !!!"
So I
stopped.
I
stared at the rat.
He
stared back.
Then I
swear he beckoned me with a scrawny digit, I know he did.
I leant
forward straining to see more clearly, and as I did, the rat started to dance,
well, jig or something. I was beginning to think I was over tired and
hallucinating but the longer I watched the more complex the rats dance became,
from a simple jig to a complicated street dance. I sat and watched totally
entranced.
What I
did not know, or see were the myriad
hordes of rats gathering around the car, each one sniffing and probing with
sharp claws for gaps in the cars bodywork, gaps that would give them an
entrance and access to the interior of the car.
Why ? I
can hear you ask, well, I was dinner.
One by
one rats found small gaps and stormed into the car. The first I knew were the
small sharp bites around my ankles, then my calves, thighs, fingers, ears,
neck, eyes.
I
spewed blood all over the inside of the car, gradually losing all conscious
thought until it all went black, The last thing I remember hearing is the
chewing of rat teeth on my flesh.
Ok, Ok,
I can hear you saying it, "So you died, Ok but how did you write
this?"
Yeah I
died, but after the usual afterlife induction interview with the biggest,
baddest bunch of baddass angels I got assigned a job -- yeah you gotta work, no
free rides in Heaven or Hell. I was lucky to get allocated a job close to my
old career in the newspaper business.
So what
job?
You are
joking me that you don't know?
.
.
.
.
Got
told to be a Ghost Writer.
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