In a small English village, far from the creature comforts of water, food and shelter, lived a rat called Mother Fucker. MF’er, as his friends called him, was no ordinary rat. With years of ninja training under his ferial belly, MF’er was particularly adept at evading predators and outwitting common extermination techniques. He roamed free in the broad daylight without fear in his head, but with emptiness in his heart as he longed to live side-by-side with the human world.
But, mankind was anything but kind to rats. The English, in particular, harbor a special hate stemming from a 350 year old grudge for his rat ancestors’ role in the plague. Sensible rats (at least as this author was told) are fearful of the English and choose to live near rivers, overflowing rubbish bins and the safety of cover. For MF’er however, a home was not a home unless it had a human family to torment.
After years of searching, MF’er stumbled upon a modest house near the town centre. This house had every rat danger known to rodents. It was as if the mom purposefully hired an exterminator every winter to make sure that no rats would be attracted to her garden. No food anywhere, no safe places to build a nest, no bird feeders and a resident owl – all of which, foolishly gave the mom a false sense of security. For MF’er, however, this was a perfect and highly logically place to call home.
One day while the family was inside eating their breakfast, MF’er decided to have a look at his new human family (event pictured below). Fortunately for him, the five of them dined next to windows facing the garden. When the mom caught MF’er out of the corner of her eye, she appeared to spasm out of control excitedly and yell his name over and over again as if she knew him and was welcoming him to her family. MF’er finally found his forever home!
But, MF’er could not have been more wrong. Money, time and her husband’s sanity were no object in the mom’s forthcoming quest for total rat genocide. An obscene amount of poison was set out to trick MF’er into an early death. But MF’er was no stranger to this amateur tactic. The mantra of his sensei, “If it’s brown like bread, go ahead, if it’s blue like a crystal meth, certain death” rang in his head to remind him how to navigate the poison minefield before him. Even dogs, cats, foxes, birds of prey and their resident owl were no match for MF’er’s strength and wit.
In spite of months of the man in the green uniform coming round and dropping the delicious smelling crystals all over his land, MF’er continued to thrive. The animals designed and bred to annihilate him, eventually gave up. And every couple of days, when the mom let her guard down, he visited as if to say, “I’m never leaving (maniacal laugh).”
Finally admitting defeat and an inability to convince her family to up and move, the mom eventually found a way to live in harmony with MF’er as he always wished. To this day, he still can be seen visiting his human family for breakfast. The mom often calls out his name when she spots him, but now in a bit softer and more sedate way.