It is a late Saturday night. The owls hooting and the street lights glowing. Not many people are out walking. I don't know why. Warm, no wind, and quiet. As I walk along the boardwalk I watch the ocean and the wave's crash on shore. I feel a hand throw something into mine and close my fingers around it. He murmurs some to me that I can't hear. He lets go of my hands and run off. I slowly open my hands and look at the box. A tiny note lays on top of the brown paper wrapped box. I slide the straw tie off of it and open the note. In messy handwriting it says "Do NOT show this to anyone and under any circumstances do NOT lose this."
I slowly walk back to my apartment while rubbing the smooth surface of the box. When I open the door I set down the box on my desk and tell myself that I'll open it in the morning.
* * *
I wake up and pass right by the box and head to the hospital, my work place. That night once I get back from work I pass right by the box and go to sleep. The next day is the same. And the next. And the next. This goes on for three weeks. On the fourth week I have a pounding in my head from the time I go to work to the time I get home.
As I walk into my apartment I sit down on my desk leaning my head onto my arms. I look to the left and then to the right. I see the little brown paper box with the straw tie. I reach one hand out and grab the box. I sit up straight and untie the little knot. I remove the brown paper carefully. And set it aside.
A little Chinese takeout box lays on my desk now. A hint of sweet and sour chicken fills the room. My mouth gapes open. A takeout box. This is what I couldn't show anybody or lose. A Chinese takeout box. I rub my temples as rage slowly fills me. I bang my fists against the desk and the top of the takeout pops open. A revolting smell now fills the air. As I gag I look into the box. A dead rat lay with yellow goo gurgling out of its mouth. Inter mixed with the goo were three little caped test tubes if a pinkish liquid. I shut the box and swallow down vomit. I slowly move my way over to my bed and lay down.
For three hours I toss and turn in my bed Images of dead rats and pink liquid flash through my mind. The smell didn't help either. At about 1:00 I call into work and leave a message that I can't come in. I put on my reading glasses and a mask. I make my way over to the desk. I sit down open the takeout box again. This rat has stopped gurgling. I put on one of my gloves and remove the three little caped tubes. I set them aside and close the box again. I poke a hole into the top of the box and dump the yellow goo into a pastry dish.
I set the box down grab a little tray. I open the box again and reach in and grab the rat. A little more yellow goo comes out. I wipe its mouth with a little clothe. I set it on the tray and grab a scalpel. I slowly cut open the stomach and set the scalpel down and pry open the belly to look into the stomach. It's filled with the yellow pus. I don't know how big a rat's stomach is supposed to be but I know that it's not this.
Expecting for it to explode I push it out lightly out of the way and look at the heart. Little drops of pink pump out of it. It's still alive, but obviously in pain. I take the scalpel again and aim for the heart. I close my eyes and strike the rat. I open my eyes. Little pink drops start to fall out of the tiny rat heart. I wipe them up and then pinch one entrance to the stomach and cut the other end upwards. It comes undone I quickly pinch the other side and move my way to the pastry dish.
