Chuck vs The Rat

I had myself a right royal battle.

So I'm heading to do a number one. [who comes up with this stuff] Open the door and I'm immediately scared back out by what I hear, and a little bit of what I see. I shut the door quickly behind me. I know what lurks in there. It was a week before or something that I had the first encounter. This time I was in the process of doing the so called number one. When I was stopped in my tracks. Well, maybe not quite, but I was stopped is my point. Literally and completely. It's amazing how a whole body system can shut down in fractions of a second. By the mere sight of a rat scampering about. After I froze [literally again], that infamous fight or flight response really kicked into gear. I just wanted to get out of there. But the door was shut and the rat was ahead of me. At the door, experiencing a similar need to flee. Finally I gathered enough courage to stretch my hand, feet remaining implanted where they were, and open the door to let the unwanted guest out. Even as it scurried away, and I was left there alone, nothing would come out. I could have gone for the rest of my life without peeing.

So this second encounter wasn't as terrifying. I hadn't started doing my do. I knew what was in there. Wasn't even in the toilet yet. Or should I say bathroom. This concept of having both in one enclosure, with only one door has always been puzzling to me. I didn't get it first time I saw it, and still don't get it every time I see a different incarnation. Why would you want to put those two together. Surely two different people can't use the facilities they provide at the same time. Perhaps in those United States. Is that why they say "going to the bathroom", rather than "going to the toilet". Euphemistic and accurate. Two birds gone. For this kind of thing to work, you'd have to have several "bathrooms" in the house. Or not have too many kids. Or not have some people who take really long baths. Otherwise there'd be all sorts of crises. Definitely wouldn't have worked in the house I grew up in.

So I shut the door. I knew that the rat was in there and wasn't going anywhere. What to do now. Kill it. I could throw some poison laced bits of food in there and wait for it to die, but who knows how long that would take. Besides. If I'm really honest with myself, I'm pretty useless at fixing things around the house. Apart from changing bulbs. Things like administering poison aren't part of my repertoire. The only other thing I could think of was a stick. So I head out and get some sort of stick. Other folks in the house notice my odd, preoccupied look and behaviour and soon I'm furnished with some gloves. Didn't know we had those. As I head back for battle, I become aware that I'm not appropriately dressed. Shorts and bare feet just won't do. What if it jumps on me and bites me or something. What if it touches me. Perish the thought. So I get into a pair of shoes and a set of pants that leaves no skin exposed. It's on now. What a blood bath it's going to be.

First things first. Open the door, jump in and shut the door. Then head for the farthest corner of the room, away from the enemy. Who was hiding behind some mtungi. Lucky for me. I get closer and hit the stick around. It comes out of hiding, makes for the door, and on realising that isn't a way out today, it heads back into hiding. Before I can gather myself and steady myself, and strike. On and on this sequence went on. On one occasion it tried to like jump out the door or something. It jumped anyway. Pretty high actually. Desperation was starting to creep in. I was playing the long game. The patient game. Waiting for the right moment. On another occasion it kind of stopped and faced me. Like it was going to attack. Actually made my heart race. I learnt right there if you are in a fight. Don't run. It will only raise adrenalin levels in your opponent and bolster him. Instead stand there and stare him down. Give him something to think about. Make him consider if he really wants to do this, and deal with possible outcomes.

But it was too late for me. People were waiting for my shouts of victory so I had no choice but to carry on. The end did come swiftly. One strike to the head. And it would do the usual routine of returning to it's hideout. Prod it out of there, then another strike. Like that for a couple of times. Getting successively better blows each time. Until it was all over. Was pretty surprised that there was no blood. Got a paper bag and that was it. I was reminded that in some parts that would be considered as supper. In the sense of an only meal rather than an exotic one. Unfortunate.