It's Hard To Be Holy

EP. 25: Chapter VII (Cont'd)

Coarse, Offensive, and Xenophobic Language. Reader Discretion Advised.

'HOLD EVEYTHIN'!' shouted Bobby, so loudly and suddenly that Danny shuddered, and Wino Willy turned on his asphalt, grunting in his sleep. 'Nobody fuckin' move!' He took off in a sort of run, sideways, with his shoulders hunched forward. The thought of an ape crossed Bud's mind as he watched the larger boy lurch and hobble across the courtyard and into the parking lot. He giggled a little, but no one heard for at that exact moment, Bobby screamed, 'HA!' and dove under an Oldsmobile, the tires of which had been stripped and whose shell wobbled on flimsy looking blocks.

Several shouts and cries later, Bobby, pride and dirt splattered on his squashed face, reemerged. 'I got her!' he boasted. 'Look! Guys! Guys! I got her—I got Big Bertha!'

The children hurried forward, eyes a'goggling with astonishment as Bobby, who seemed to be wrestling the fattest, scruffiest, most virulently panicked kitten on God's blue earth. But the Big Bertha was no feline as the children all knew. She was the ugliest, filthiest, most engorged rodent in the world. She was not a rat. She was THE rat. Queen of all St. Gregory's numerous vermin. A legend unto herself. No wire in the wall, no babe in a crib was safe from her strong bite. Cats and dogs fled from the sight of her shadow. Adults went on hunting expeditions, pitchforks glinting in the light of their torches. She scoffed at the traps and poison that lined the hallways of Curly's. No lure was too intelligent for Big Bertha, no mob too savage and cunning to bring her reign of terror to heel.

Until today.

And then a new game commenced!

'Get the firework,' hollered Bobby, punching the writhing Bertha in the face to try and stop her gnawing off his fingers. 'Jesus—Danny! Get the fuckin' firework!'

From nowhere but thin air, Danny held up a sizable rocket. 'Where the fuck did that come from?!' demanded Bud.

'Uhhh. My pocket...I think,' said Danny, patting his pants to see if the pocket was still there.

'How long have you been carryin'—' but Bobby interrupted: 

'Somebody fuckin' help me hold her down!'

The boys rushed to Bobby's aide, while Vera hovered over her brother's shoulder, cackling with glee and clapping her hands together as her friends and relative tried to pin the rat to the ground so Danny could tie the bomb to its tail.

'Ow! Fuck!' moaned Bud, blood pooling from his forefinger. 'She bit me!'

'Uhhh. Maybe it's 'cause she's scared. You think? You think she's scared. She looks scared—'

'I dunno, Danny,' said Bud, sucking on his agonized finger, 'why don't we shove a firework up your ass, see how you like it?!'

'Bud! Bud!' cried Vera, dancing up and down, uninterested in her brother's plight. 'Bud!!'

'What?!'

'When she gonna go poof?!'

'Give us a sec—OW! FUCK!' His middle finger now blossomed with a fluorescent and queues red. 'Stop friggin' bitin' me, you bitch!'

'Stop stickin' your fingers near her mouth,' heaved Ed.

'I ain't—OW! MOTHERFUCKER!' More red melted over what had once been his darling pinkie.

Finally, after many more minutes of swearing and Bud attempting to kick the rat—he missed and caught Danny in the shin—the boys managed to subdue Big Bertha long enough to tie the firework to her tail.