Rats and Things

Forgive me if I've told you this already.

The rat ran under my foot as I was walking down 6th avenue. It was fast. The closest thing I can complare it to is the killer bunny on Monty Python and the Holy Grail. The thing came flying at me, and before I knew it there was something under my foot and it went crunch.

Then, a rat lying a few feet away with its chin and belly flat along the pavement. Half dead, injured, or just playing it cool until it got its bearings?

Lying that way, the rat looked just like Saro when she's in skritching-ecstasy, lolling on the rug. Cute; endearing. Only it was a rat and my neck was tingling and I felt like I was going to throw up.

Rat, lost in the streets? Demented with rabies? Demented with rat Alzheimer's? Did I kill its brother it in a past life, and now it's pulling a kamikaze move to exact revenge?

I stood there and watched it for awhile. Its legs moved a little. I tried to think of things to do to help it. They all seemed like a bad idea. It felt wrong, but I walked away.

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Speaking of Holy Grails . . . Tonight i go back to the Sidewalk to play a Antihoot for the first time since Clinton was president. You can't smoke there now, which makes it a little less punishing for the senses, but detracts from the, er, ambience (and provides fewer outlets to calm one's nerves).

I think Antihoot coping skills probably are more use-em-or-lose-em than it's-just-like-riding-a-bike. I've forgotten my tuner, which is somehow appropriate. Wish me luck.