“This plague that’s hit our lousy neighbourhood,” he went on, “isn’t a localized problem. Fuck no. This is a global phenomenon with humans having to expend more and more energy and resources in fighting the rat population.”
“Is it as serious as that?” asked Gilbert, somewhat sceptically.
“It’s bad, man, bad,” said Horry. “The UN estimates that more than a fifth of world food production is consumed or spoilt by rodents. And, apart from food supplies, they cause billions of dollars worth of damage by chewing the shit out of anything and everything else. Countless fires are caused by them stripping the insulation off electrical wiring, you know. Like us, they’ve got a strong vandalistic streak in them.”
“Oh, I hate them!” said Rose with a shudder and a grimace. “They’re so sinister and aggressive and determined, just like the criminals.”
“Are you talking about the roof rats?” asked Larry, who had just joined them.
“Well, I don’t think this one is the roof rat. That’s Rattus rattus,” said Horry. “I think this is the Norway rat, Rattus norwegicus. It’s bigger and sturdier than the roof rat. Unless these are roof rats that have grown fat and sleek on Constantia fare. That wouldn’t surprise me: there’s so much wastage that goes on around here: tons of perfectly good food thrown away every day.”
“The Constantia rats have probably got high cholesterol, heart disease and diabetes,” said Matt, and the others laughed.
“But rats are cool, man,” said Larry. “Last year we studied the rat in Biology. It’s amazing how they can adapt to different environments. They even survived nuclear weapons testing on atolls in the Pacific. No sign of genetic deformities either. They really are tough.”
Ophabia was nodding her head in agreement, for she too had done the rat project, and the text-book details were still fresh in her memory.
“You know,” said Larry admiringly, “the average rat can wriggle through a hole the size of a 20c piece, and can climb a wall as if it’s running up a ladder. And it’s not afraid of water – it’s been known to swim a kilometre without a problem, and it can tread water for up to three days. It’s got these chisel teeth that can gnaw through stuff like lead pipes and cement blocks. The jaws exert a pressure of 24 000 pounds per square inch. Incredible, hey? Also, you can throw a fucking rat out of a five-storey window and the fucking thing’ll hit the pavement and get up and scamper off totally unharmed.”
“And they breed like crazy,” said Ophabia. “They reach maturity at three months and can produce seven litters a year, each with 6 to 22 young. In just 12 months the rat population can grow from one male and one female to more than 10 000 descendants!”
They all agreed that rats were amazing creatures but extremely loathsome.
“We don’t only detest them because of their destructiveness, though,” said Horry, returning to his central theme. “Nor for their ability to infect us with 20 dread diseases like plague and typhus and Lassa fever – you know that the rat spread Black Death in the 1300s and wiped out a quarter of the people in Europe? But there’s another reason why we find them so fucking obscene; a psychological reason. When we see a rat and shudder in revulsion it’s partly a feeling of disgust for ourselves. Our base impulses, our revolting habits, our treacherous nature, our murderous inclinations, and our systematic degradation of everything we touch. The rat is our nemesis: a reproach and a reminder of how vile we really are.”
They all hung their heads in shame, briefly. Then Matt looked up and spoke:
“Talking of base impulses and revolting habits, I suggest we all turn our attention to the wedding party and observe the guests’ behaviour, especially that of Dick the Prick.”
This is an extract from Pop-splat.
You can read the book on Smashwords.
Pop-splat is also available on Amazon.
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