Klarinet Archive - Posting 001247.txt from 2000/06
From: LeliaLoban@-----.com
Subj: [kl] Miced?
Date: Wed, 28 Jun 2000 09:52:12 -0400
Katie wrote,
>I couldn't help but be reminded of Dick Vigorous
>when I saw the word "miced".
Hey, how ya doin? I'm borrowin' Lelia's brain again so's she can type this
for me. Took me awhile to answer, 'cause I just got back from gettin'
deported. Before that, I was in the slammer. When I wrote before, I thought
Lelia'd like knowin' she had a fan in the house that enjoyed her squealin'
and squallin' on clarinet, not like that Miss Priss Shadow Cat, but I got
that wrong. No, Lelia ain't grateful. She don't appreciate me. That's sad,
how humans hates us, when we likes humans so much. Made me feel real bad
when I saw her fixin' to bust me, after I tried to compliment her clarinet
squealin' an' all. Well, I thought I'd figured out how to grab the goodies
off the trigger an' jump fer it, too quick to get caught, but I was wrong
about that, too -- slam!!! Aw, lizards, not again!
So Lelia hauled me down the stairs in the slammer, with that snotty cat
struttin' alongside an' starin' at me through the bars an' yammerin' threats
at me. I sez to the cat, "I'm gonna get you," but Shadow called me dirty
rat and sez Lelia was takin' me out to bash me dead with the shovel. Talk's
cheap. Anyhow, they ain't got no capitol punishment here. They'll squish an
ant, but they ain't got the stomach to croak a rat. Lelia didn't say
nothin', just took me outta the house an' deported me, alla way down to the
culvert. Minute she dumped me outta the slammer, I run straight into the
drain pipe, just in case she changed her mind and was fixin' to drown me.
My relatives in the sewer welcomed me like long-lost kin, so that made me
feel better. (They ain't mices, BTW. Not that I got nothin' against mices,
but them's little squirts. Me, I'm a rat, an' a well- fed big one, if I do
say so mice-elf!) We had us a nice Summer Solstice. Old Gabby Dadrat (who's
my dad an' my half-brother an' I think my double grandaddy, too, plus he's my
triple cousin and my uncle four or five ways), who got deported two years ago
an' decided to stay there, he organized a big sacrifice to the Giant Rat of
Sumatra. They believe the Giant Rat lives alla way down the sewer. I don't
really believe in no Giant Rat of Sumatra. All I believe in is, "Me first."
But they offered to help me cast a curse. They was all castin' curses, so
why not? We put the Curse of the Million Fleas on that Shadow Cat.
We made a real high-class sacrifice: four periodical cicadas. Them's rare,
ya know. Can't get 'em any old year. I ain't old enough to remember the
last ones. I got lucky, 'cause this year, we got us one of them broods that
comes out early, after 13 years instead of 17. Now listen, some rats'll tell
ya that a cicada tastes just like cockroach. Don'tcha believe it. Cicada's
like nothin' else in the world. Crunchy, crunchy, yummy yummy yummy, meaty
an' sour. Some said we hadda send the sacrifice floatin' down the sewer.
Some said, no, no, no, that's a sin. Ya never waste a sacrifice. Ya eat it
up, in honor of the Giant Rat. So we had us a big fight to settle it. We
rolled over 'n' over an' bit each other hard. It was fun. Then we et two
cicadas an' floated the other two down the sewer.
But Shadow Cat ain't got no fleas, far as I can tell. She minces around
thinkin' she's such a shady lady when she ain't nothin' but a lazy soft
housecat. How I'd love to load her up with fleas! But I guess there ain't
no Giant Rat of Sumatra, or else we goofed up the sacrifice an' shoulda et
all four cicadas, or sent all four down the sewer, not split 'em up like
that. Oh well.
Yeah, I know she ain't got no fleas 'cause I come back. I missed the
clarinet, so I made that long trek, an' here I am. I'm bein' real quiet, not
gnawin' the TV cable or doin' nothing to upset nobody, but if I get deported
again, maybe I can find a house with a nice beginner, who squeaks more an'
maybe ain't so grudgin' about sharin' the premises.
Anybody got room for a real big good lookin' long-tailed rat that loves to
listen to ya playin' the clarinet? Can I bring my girlfriends? An' a few
dozen of my cute little ratlets? I wanna teach 'em all about the clarinet.
Cya later--
Dick Vigorous
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