September 12, 2007
Originally published April 7, 2004
I once owned a pet rat named "Bosk." (20 bonus points to anyone who can tell me where that name came from!) He was a nice, hooded rat with a set of nuts on him the size of grapes. I could put his cage on the floor, open the door and let him run around my apartment. He would explore, scare the shit out of strangers by popping up on the back of the couch, then come sit on my shoulder when he was ready to go home.
If I held out my hand, he would crawl down my arm into my palm and allow me to place him back in his cage. That's where the good food was, and he knew it.
When I met Holly Beth, she felt sorry for Bosk and recommended that we buy him a woman companion; so, we went to the pet store and bought a female hooded rat for $3.00. I named her "Slut," and she lived up to the name. I believe that she went into heat about every 12 hours.
Have you ever watched rats fuck? It's good entertainment when you're half-drunk and half-stoned. Old big-nutted Bosk tackled Slut from behind, bit her ear and plowed her into the cedar chips at the bottom of the cage. He was finished in a couple of seconds, but he was ready for a repeat performance about once an hour. That cage became a den of iniquity.
When the first litter of baby rats were born, Bosk killed and ate them all. I suppose that he wanted no rivals imposing on his turf. I bought a second cage, and removed Bosk when the second litter was born. (I could sell baby rats back to the pet store at $2.00 each. I was thinking about becoming a rat-farmer at the time.)
Bosk didn't like that new cage one bit. He was away from his pussy, he had a new generation growing to claim his throne as King Rat, and he was pissed at me. The bastard even bit me once to let me know how he felt about this turn of events.
I raised about 18 rats and sold them before Holly Beth left and took Bosk and Slut with her. She waited until I was gone to work and cleaned out the house. She took everything she could load, including the head off my shower, my monogrammed satin fuck-sheets and every dish that I owned at the time. How about THAT for a tale? Yeah, my woman left me and stole my rats. I believe that it was a "birds of a feather" thing.
At least she left my dog behind.
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