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| >> Static Item >> Fiction >> Comedy >> ID #489431 |   |
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The Field Rats Note of Explanation: Recently I went to help my brother cut a field behind his and my parent’s houses. The field was previously a large vegetable garden that has not been planted for several years. As I was cutting it with the lawn tractor I saw rats and mice run from the field to the woods to escape the mower blades. It occurred to me that the rats and mice did not know what this loud noise and disturbance was. What did they think? How would they react as a community? Would they be organized; would they call a meeting to decide what to do? How would they organize? The story below is the result of those questions. Let me say that while this is a political story, it’s not a statement of my political viewpoint. The characterization of President George Bush and others is not an attempt to disparage them. As a matter of fact I appreciate most of the folks alluded to in this story. These efforts at writing are intended only to reflect on and "humorize" some of the events of the last few years. It is certainly not intended to trivialize the events of 9-11. Criticism about structure, humor, form and grammar are always welcomed and appreciated and I welcome your comments. I hope you enjoy the story and if you don’t care for it, that’s OK. We all like different things and see humor differently. The Field Rats Two brothers, Tom and Jim, were discussing things that needed to be done at their parents’ house since their father had died. “Tom,” Jim said, pointing to the field their dad used to plant as a garden, “We need to cut that field. The grass and weeds are almost 18 inches tall and if we don’t cut soon, we'll have to hire a tractor and bushhog to do the job.” “You’re right,” Tom agreed, “Why don’t you bring your lawn tractor and I’ll use mine and we can cut it in five or six hours.” With that agreed, the two brothers set a date to cut the field and on the appointed date started their engines and began cutting. However, the field had become home to a community of field rats and as they heard the mowers beginning to cut into their homeland, they hastily called an emergency assembly to deal with this catastrophe that had befallen their community. One of the venerable councilmen, Teddy Rat, stood to address the situation. “Now, let me say this about that,” he said holding his finger upward, “When my brother, Jack Rat, was the High Dictator, we had a crisis that we dealt with. But it is important to note that we did not forget the little rats that scurry about.” “Sur,” shouted Jessie Rat, who represented the southern part of the field, “I ubject to this kind of rhetoric. That is nothing more than the usual DemoRat line of falderal we have to listen to evera day in this august assembly!” “Will you please to pardon me,” spoke up Abdul ben Rat in his accent from the middle eastern part of the field, “But I am convinced that this is the Great Satan from the west that is coming to destroy our wonderful way of life and to subjugate our children and to take away our freedom to starve and be poor rats.” “I tell you,” shouted Teddy, “This calamity has befallen us because of the economic and foreign policies of the current administration! It’s those RepubiMice who have brought this on us!” “Utter nonsense,” spoke up T Lott Rat, who was the former head of the assembly, “This is the result of the former administration of William Jefferson “Bill” C. Rat, who in my estimation was not even a rat, but a weasel, combined with the fact that you DemoRats have some how weaseled your way into control of this assembly. You’ve even got his wife, Hillary C. Mouse, as a member of this assembly now.” “I would like to object,” enunciated Joseph L. Rat, “to the characterization of the Honorable William Jefferson Rat’s administration in the manner our esteem colleague has used. I am close to these wonderful people, having run unsuccessfully for Assistant Dictator with Mr. Al Gerbil. I especially object to this casting of aspersions on Mrs. Hillary Rodham C Mouse’s election to this body in a manner that would make it seem her election was a sham. I must protest strongly your characterization of such.” “As we say down in the southern part of this field, you done run through the wrong gate and wound up in the wrong stall, boy. I ain’t never say anything that closely resembles what you just said,” defended T Lott. “Well, in that case, “responded Joseph L., “I demand a recount! The proof is in the U-Haul Truck!” “Gentlemen, Gentlemen,” said, J. Jeffords Rat trying to calm everyone, “Please, let’s be gentlemen about the choices we make and approach this without rancor.” Assemblyman Strom T. Rat rose slowly to his 100 year old feet, “Sur, you are a turncoat and a scalawag, a carpetbagger. You deserted us in the hour of our greatest need. You, sur, are an ahrmy o’ one! By the way, is that where they got that dumb slogan? If I wuz an ahrmy of one, I’d go AWOL. My daddy fought is the great war to end all wars and they wudn't just one, they wuz a bunch of 'em. Kin I make a motion to change that? I thank it ought ta be an ahrmy of a million. Wouldn’t that be better?” “Mr. Strom," said Rob Rat, his aide, "We're here to address the problem with the environment and the threat...” “N-viroment? Hell, boy the environment of this assembly has been like this ever since I was first ‘lected; course back then we didn’t have cars or telephones. Come to think of it, I’m not sure we even had fire then. But still we got things done because we understood one another. Didn’t have all these factions. Well, what am I to do?” “Have a seat, sir,” said Rob. “Well, OK, where is it?” he said as he was directed to his chair. “I think we just need to ask our Honorable High Dictator about his plans,” said Phil G. Rat who is from the western part of the field, “I know the Dictator personally since we are from the same part of the field.” “I agree!” shouted T Dashing Rat, “We’ll have an Assembly investigation and subpoena the Dictator!” “I don’t think that’s necessary,” said McCain Rat. “I ran against Dub Yugh for Dictator and he’s a good man. Just ask him to come over and talk with us. He’ll do it.” So the invitation was prepared and given to the Honorable High Dictator, Mr. Dub Yugh Rat who after delaying and consulting his advisors for a while came to speak with the Assembly. Present in the Assembly that day were several important persons, among them his dad, former High Dictator, George Rat, his immediate predecessor, William Jefferson “Bill” C. Rat and his Assistant Dictator and loser of the last election against Dub Yugh, Al Gerbil. Also two other former High Dictators were present, Mr. J “Peanut” Rat, and Mr. Gerald . “Oops” Rat. Former High Dictator Mr. R R. Rat was unable to attend due to health reasons, but his wife, Nancy Mouse, did attend. “Assemblymen and women, distinguished guest, former High Dictators and dad,” Dub Yugh began, “I am glad you all came to this auspicious meeting today. Especially glad that Mr. Bill C. could come…” “I’m glad to take time away from my busy schedule,” former High Dictator William Jefferson “Bill” C. said, “You know they are considering me to replace J Leno Rat, I'll get to play my sax, or is it that other guy, Letterman, whatever, and before I fly back to my other field up north in the Big Apple, I did want to say that I feel your pain.” “Thank you for that update,” Dub Yugh said, “Hillary told me that Monica was doing fine. Now, moving on, I just want to say that I hear you; all the Rat Fields hear you. And this Rat Field is not going to abandon its place in this society. We are going to prevail because we are right and in right is might, because the night is out of sight! Because of the initiatives my daddy started right after High Dictator RR. put them in motion, we now have in place the technology to determine what this thing is and how it works. They do not know when we will strike. But strike we will and we will prevail. Our star wars satellites in the sky are beaming down a searching, just like a bird dog after a bird. He’s on the point. Got that leg up, that tail pointing out behind and his nose a looking straight at the birds. This is gonna be better than a goat roping down on the ranch. Just like shooting fish in a barrel. Our satellites are zeroing in on this hellish machine that is terrorizing our field. It’s going after him. And I must share some sensitive and classified information with you today and I must ask each of you, do you have clearance for classified information?” A general “duh huh” went up with heads nodding. “I got the highest clearance,” said William Jefferson “Bill” C. Rat. “You can tell me anything and I’m cleared. I wouldn’t tell any body, beside I found out that kind of information don’t impress young chicks. If I were trying to impress the kind of girls these other former High Dictators might be hanging with, that kind of information would rev them up, probably. But, I’m cool.” “Thank you again, Bill C. for that reassurance,” said Dub Yugh, “I’m sure it makes all of us breathe easier, and sleep sounder. Recently we received photos from our satellite and they show two large beasts of some kind that are devouring our field at a rapid rate. They maybe Transformers, but we don’t really know. Also, we don't know how they can eat so much. Of course, there’s a lot of waste because they eat and it just goes through them and leaves a lot of residue and the residue is not little pills like we leave. No, no, it’s massive residue. I took a group of your Assemblymen and Assemblywomen recently on a fact finding tour, Shelby, Roberts, Lugar, Hatch, Lott, Jeffords, uh, no he was scratched after his announcement, but we took a lot of others, you know a bi-partisan group and we saw the destruction. We saw these beasts chasing little rats and mice and it was terrible. And I said to this group of the very best of your assembly, “what are we going to do?” And they said, “We don’t know.” “Well, I’ll tell you what we going to do. We going to...” said Dub Yugh as the drone that had been a dull sound in the background suddenly began to get louder and louder until there was a crescendo of noise so loud it was hard to shout over the din. The ground began to quiver and tall grass and weeds began to vibrate and sway as Assemblymen and women began to grab at the straws and twigs to hold as a big mower burst into their meeting. The High Dictator summoning all his courage and strength stood up on his hind legs and shouted. “What we going to do? We’re gonna run! It’s every rat for himself!” And rats of every size and shape began to scamper in every direction as both big mowers came charging through the tall grass chopping, cutting and mulching everything in sight. And somewhere down in the big woods, Dub Yugh said to his dad, “Do you think the woodchucks would be in need of a trained and experienced dictator?
© Copyright 2002 Writer of the Winds (UN: caracas at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
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