Five Rat Oriented Short Stories (standard:humor, 1995 words)
Author: Oscar Rat	Added: Jun 18 2009	Views/Reads: 3069/2102	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
For and about rats, but humans might like them.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

in the military?  That would help?  Like in the Rat Commandos?” 

Oscar, a killer?  He can't even win knock over an ant hotel, I thought. 
All those ants growling at him frightens the poor guy. 

“No.  Not that I know of,” I hedged. “If he was, he never told me.” 

“How much of a down-payment can you afford?” she asked. 

“Maybe fifty dollars?” I replied. 

“Uh  . . .  how much do you pay for rent now?” 

“Nothing. We live in the Fanstory Building, rent free. It's a perk of
membership.  Characters get free rooms.” 

“I see you forgot to answer a question on this form,” she informed me.
“What is your boyfriend's full name.  Since he'll be living with you, 
we have to know?" 

I told her. 

"Oscar A., Oscar A. Rat.” The real estate agent jerked to her feet. 

"You're kidding!” Her fur seemed to stand on end and turn a reddish hue,
at least that on her face did, “I wouldn't trust that sneaky rodent 
within ten feet of me. Every time I go to that bar next door he tries 
to grope me.” 

So, I thought, that's why that rat wouldn't come in her office with me.
He was probably groping another rodent right then. And he promised to 
change his ways when we moved in together. 

Sure enough, when the agent and I went next door to confront him, he was
sitting in a booth with his paws on a bunny whore.  I don't know where 
he is right now, but Nancy and I have a lot more room since I kicked 
that rat out. 

Malodor Skunk 

========== Seven Days of Hell ========== 

Seven days ago, I met a cute little skunk girl.  Now nobody will talk to
me.  I've been moping around all week, sicker than a huma ... a -- a 
dog with rabies. 

You see, it started with Malodor's cousin, Spot.  She's a cute little
chick with white spots all over her.  Malodor introduced us and warned 
me to keep away from Spot.  But, to quote a poet Grandpa Elmer used to 
talk about, "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely 
players." Spot was a good looking dame, one I couldn't resist.  Grandpa 
Elmer's old friend Willie Shakespeare was correct. 

Malodor had to see her mother in Boston, leaving me alone with beauteous
Spot.  I poured us both drinks, and we became well acquainted. 

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" I asked her, sliding closer on
the couch. She looked at me with tender wide eyes, and intoned, 

“Wha' you say, Jack?” 

"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet," I told the pretty girl
skunk, putting my paw on her left hind leg, and watching her tail. The 
tail stayed limp. That's one reason I like skunks, I can tell whether 
I'm impressing them or making them angry. 

“Uh, why you talkin' like that? I ain't no frickin' rose?” 

"To be like a rose or not to be like a rose, that is the question." I
moved up against her, mouth to her ear. 

“Hey, Oscar, baby.  I got a better idea. Why don't we get it on while
Malodor's gone?”  She jumped on me and we got it on, all but the 
protection. 

A couple of weeks later, I noticed bumps on my banana, so to speak. 
Stuff in my shorts followed. 

I washed the pertinent parts. "A little water clears us of this deed;
How easy is it, then!” Alas, they kept coming back. 

Malodor found out.  How could I hide it from her?  She got angry and
stormed out the door, leaving me all alone. 

Spot had the audacity to call me this morning. 

"Out, damned Spot! Out, I say!" I yelled at her and hung up the phone. 

Charlie's got things screwed up as usual. I ain't gonna die, but I wish
I could. The doctor says I can't even take a drink until this clears 
up. I can only lament "O never shall sun that morrow see!” 

Oscar Rat 

========= Alfred's Fetish ========= 

Alfred Ratovich had a fetish.  He was crazy about gold, something very
few rats had a use for.  Alfred simply loved gold, the smell, the 
taste, and especially the bright yellow glow in the dimness of his 
tunnel home. 

Learning of huge pots of such shiny metal, presumably at the end of a
rainbow, Alfred trained himself as a long distance runner.  After every 
rainstorm, he'd leave his burrow, anxiously looking around for a 
rainbow to chase. 

"I know I can.  I know I can.  I know I can," he'd tell himself,
standing in a sprinting posture, head close to the ground, taking off 
at every change in sky color, hoping to get a headstart before a 
rainbow had time to fully form. 

His family and friends thought Alfred was a nut, a real pistachio.  As
he ran, he'd be accompanied by laughter. 

"There goes crazy Alfred again," would be the shouts, "chasing after
rainbows." 

Although Alfred made a nice living as a very fast grocery bagger at the
local Rodent Market, he dreamed of making it big. 

One day in May, after a particularly virulent rainstorm, Alfred, true to
form, thought he saw a rainbow forming.  Off like a streak, he ran 
around cliffs, across dales, and through alleys, after his prize. 

That time he was lucky.  Alfred was so fast he actually overran his
objective.  Seeing a clear sky, he looked behind him, finding a 
magnificent rainbow seemingly only yards behind him. 

With a loud "Screeeech" and fan of gravel from burning paws, he
reversed, heading in the right direction. 

Alfred not only found the pot of gold, but ran full tilt into it.  With
a mighty leap, he jumped to the top, seeing what looked like acres of 
the shiny metal, most in the form of large coins. 

Hastily throwing coin after coin to the ground, he saw the pot under him
fading, along with the rainbow above.  Rainbow and pot vanished, 
leaving Alfred to drop heavily to the ground. 

Picking himself up, the happy rodent found a dozen coins lying across
the grass. 

Now a rich rat, Alfred lives in a mansion dug under a vacant lot he owns
in the best part of town.  He runs a training course for other rodents, 
working on a percentage basis for other finds. 

No longer considered a nut, Alfred sits back, petting his harem of
nubile young skunks while watching other rodents run.  Their every 
success guarantees him further riches. 

Oscar Rat 

======== A Letter to Santa ======== 

Hello Santa.  This is your friend and former employee, Oscar Rat. 

I'm sure you remember me, I caused enough trouble while working for you,
but I've changed. 

These days I live at the Fanstory building with my own room and
everything.  I'm a writer.  No, not that kind of writer.  Not on walls 
and boxcars and not in that kind'a language.  Come on, I'm serious. 

Remember the time I chewed through the traces on your sled?  That was
funny when the reindeer took off like a bat out of hell, Rudolph's nose 
shining off into the distance, while the sled just sat there.  It took 
them twenty miles to realize you weren't with them.  Anyway, I don't do 
things like that anymore. 

I've been a good boy the past year, only chewing on a couple of toes,
but that's another story.  If you don't believe me, ask the others at 
Fanstory.com.  They'll vouch for me. 

And, hey, remember the time I filled a toy handgrenade with real
gunpowder and....  Course I wouldn't do that again, and even  did the 
work of all four elves while they were in the hospital. 

Since I'm a famous writer now, what I want for Christmas is a handheld
computer, one with a small keyboard so I don't have to run around on 
the big one to type.  And if you've still got some of those old porno 
movies lying around, you know, the ones under your mattress, send them 
along for my buddy, Charlie. 

Thanks, Santa, old buddy.  I'd come up to visit if the guards would let
me back in -- and if you dropped that pesky arrest warrant. 

Your old pal, Oscar Rat.


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