I knew this would happen eventually—not necessarily the holey underpants, but the rat thing. In ‘Eua, though I had plenty of annoying quirks in my house (like no running water for half a week or more,) I heard a rat in my walls maybe a handful of times, but I know there’s a rat (or two) in my house. I’ve had food missing (though no evidence of a rat like half-nibbled things or crumbs), random thick-ish poop that is similar to the gecko, but a bit different. And I hear rats in my walls quite often. I’m pretty sure I had one frolicking in my sink cabinet this morning, but I was too scared (and unprepared) to look.
But why my underpants? Is this rat trying to tell me something? I’ve been philosophizing. Here’s what I’ve come up with:
(Thoughts of a rat who chews through underpants:)
• I’m hungry, yo! Where is that bread you left out on the table the other day?
• You need to lose the boy briefs. So I ate them.
• It’s art. See how symmetrical this circle is? And the movement of the little holes toward the butt-pouch?
• I thought there was FOOD in that bag…not yo dirty draws!
• You let a rat in your pants! Hahahahahaha!
• You’re never at home. I get lonely.
• I lost a bet.
• What did you expect, your own Ratatouille?
Anyway, this rat is cheeky. But underpants are precious. Though I’m intrigued by this act of perversion, I must not stand for this kind of behavior. This Underpants-Eating varmint must die.
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