Reverend Green's Bible Of Misanthropy

Who let the rats out?

11/03/19

10:03pm

Who let the rats out?

4revgreen: I am majorly pissed off.

More than pissed off. I feel unsafe, intruded upon and very, very angry.

This morning I left for my daily dog walk, as always. I am a man of routine, despite it being a very boring one. I left around 8am and took the normal route, however I was walking slower than usual because I was thinking more than usual. The walk usually took an hour, today it took two.

When I eventually returned home from my very exciting, normal walk,my dogs immediately started barking- as soon as we got in the gate. This put me on edge, knowing what happened last time this happened. But this time, the weren't barking at something in the graveyard; they were barking at the house. My house.

The door was wide open, and the wood had splintered around a foot sized hole, presumably the preferred method of entry nowadays. Large, muddy footprints covered the floor, and I followed them round, my dogs close behind. They lead into the kitchen, and then back out again.Every single drawer had been ransacked, and many of my personal belongings had been strewn across the floor. All my junk drawers had been emptied onto the table, and my only mug was smashed on the floor, seemingly having fallen out of the cupboard when it was thrown open with force.

The lounge- a small room with only a TV and a single arm chair that I barely used- wasn't as badly ransacked, but there was still large foot prints all over the carpet. How muddy had this intruders shoes been?

My room was the one that had been hit the worst.

Both of my computer monitors were gone (I am currently using an old laptop I had stored away in a cupboard) as was most of my technology- my phone (The landline- I had my mobile with me) Bluetooth speakers, even my amplifier, though I have been meaning to replace that for years. Doubt they'll get much when they flog that.

But I didn't mind about all that, when I turned round to see that the doors of my rat's cage had been opened.

My heart pretty much skipped a beat. In fact, I'm sure it skipped more than a beat. Perhaps it just stopped all together. At least that's what it felt like, anyway.

My rats, Lucifer and Morning star, were gone.

For a few minutes I ransacked my entire room, searching through every nook and every cranny. There was nowhere for them to be hiding, but they could've easily escaped outside and be long gone. I felt this sense of dread, a pit in my stomach awakening and engulfing all my insides.It must be the same feeling a mother feels when she can't spot her child in a busy street, or even when a child turns round and can't see it's parents anywhere. Lost and alone, in some foreign place.

But I wasn't in a foreign place, though it felt like it, now some intruder had ravaged through my belong. And I wasn't alone. I had my animals. Minus three.

Kanye West meowed as he came through the door into my bedroom. He's my youngest cat, just over a year old now. And I named him that way because it's always pretty funny to say "Kanye West did a shit on my carpet" when other people are round.

I noticed the stains instantly. He's a ginger cat (Maybe I should have named him Ed Sheeran) and so the blood was apparent as soon as he strutted into the room. He looked so proud of himself, sitting down and licking his paws, right in front of me. It was bloody obvious what had happened.

It was almost as bad as what had happened to Alphabetti Spaghetti, but I knew I wouldn't have to look at the broken bodies of my rats, because they'd already been consumed, and most likely digested too. Also, I knew my Kanye West didn't mean to upset me; he's a cat, it's in his instincts.