Now, where I grew up, it was deer in the back yard eating all the flowers and using their bodies to crack speeding cars. See, the humans pushed all the wolves out, I guess we were scared of their teeth, so the deer have all multiplied and prance down the middle of Nassau Street.
They’re all rats, different ones wherever you go, but I’d trade my rat for your rat any day cause my rat’s getting old.
My grandmother lives on Long Beach Isle, and there are white rats with wings sweeping down whenever we eat outside. They sit on top of the ranch house and caw to their friends, and stare at my cob of corn till I throw it to them.
Once I almost kicked a pigeon, he got away just in time. Next time I’ll get my three-wood and drive him right down the line. In my apartment there’s mosquitoes, and there’s viruses at my job, where I have to go incognito to avoid the janitor who calls me Todd.