| A brown rat scurries through the autumn leaves that have gathered in the gutter beside the curb. It sits perfectly still, camouflaged, as a woman and dog pass the window of a pet shop. The dog stops, sniffs, growls, but fortunately the woman drags it along, in a hurry to get home. The rat glances around with its beady eyes: no one to be seen now. Quickly it jumps up to the window sill, its paws resting on the glass and eyes focused on something inside. Why would it do that? |
 | Inside, close to the window, there are several glass cages filled with warm straw. Three white rats with pink tails are kept in one close by. Bowls of food in one corner, fresh water in another, toys all over the cage. One of the white rats is picked up by a kid, a golden-haired boy of maybe ten years old. He laughs delightedly as he strokes the rat, which seems to have no objections to it and sniffs at the boy's nose curiously. |
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| The brown rat outside has disappeared from the window, scuffling back into an alleyway not far off. It's an excellent place for an emaciated streetrat; several restaurants and snack bars chuck out their rubbish here, and if only it can reach into the dumpsters, it may be able to sneak off with some chunks of food before the garbagemen come to collect the lot. The rat, driven by hunger, swiftly climbs onto one of the half-opened dumpsters and begins to squeeze himself inside. |  |
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| "Ah-haa!" |
 | The rat dives into the nearest rain pipe for cover, spying out of it to see what caused the disturbance. A man appears from behind the bins, with a triumphant look on his face clutching what looks like a half-eaten roasted chicken. The rat's stomach grumbles at the sight of such a rich meal. Underneath a ragged coat, smelly shirt and filthy trousers is an unshaven and probably drunk tramp, by the looks of him. He must have noticed the rat, because he stumbles towards the old rain pipe. |
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| The homeless man kneels before the pipe, glancing inside it, with a smiling sort of grimace on his face, the smell of liquor now easily discernible. The rat only retreats deeper into the pipe, trying to scramble up into it and out of sight, out of harm's way, but the pipe is too slippery to climb into, even for a rat. It has no choice but to sit still, whiskers tremblings slightly, little nose sniffing fervently, trying to think what to do and how to get away. |  |
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| "Here, here, little 'un. Have some." |
| The man holds out a bit of meat torn from the chicken. For a long while the rat sits perfectly still, waiting for an opportunity to flee, or, if need be, attack. But nothing happens; the man stays where he is, the rat stays where it is. The smell of the chicken - it had to be from last night's meals, it had still had that roasted herby smell to it - begins to fill the pipe, overpowering that of the filthy algae in the pipe, and even that of the liquor. The rat's whiskers bounce up and down with every sniff of it. It crawls out of the pipe a bit further, not knowing whether to trust or to run, but leaning more towards trust with every wisp of air. |
| "Here, here, boy." |
| Not being able to withstand the smell of food after having gone so long without eating, the rat takes some of it. With every bite it takes, the man withdraws the food a bit further from the pipe, forcing the rat to come closer and closer, until finally it has no choice but to climb out of the pipe and onto the man's lap to reach the chicken.The tramp quietly approaches the rat with his left hand, and, when the rat looks suspiciously at it but doesn't run, begins to stroke the rat's back. At the first touch it twitches and jumps aside, but quickly returns to the chicken. Man and rat both persevere their own intentions; one to make friends, the other not to starve. |
| "Well, well. Not so scared now, eh, little 'un?" |
 | He picks up the rat, which struggles at the clasp, then puts it down on a bin whilst opening the dumpster next to it to search for more food. Upon being released, the rat instantly dives for the edge of the bin, but halts at the edge. It stays poised there, ready to dive off if necessary, but stays and follows the man with its eyes. Soon the tramp finds more food and shares it in the same manner. Despite his drunken state, he is quite gentle with the little rodent. |
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| "Heh. Might as well keep you. My own little pet rat, eh? And free as well!" |
| He lets out a low, hearty laugh, his head bend backwards, swaying dangerously due to the liquor in his veins. Then the tramp loses his balance altogether and falls over, crashing into one of the bins behind him and sending it to the ground with a loud bang. |
 | The back door of one of the restaurants suddenly slams open and a white-hatted person appears in the door."What is all that racket?!" |
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| "Filth!" he calls at the ragged coat swiftly disappearing behind the corner. Lord knows what else he would have called if he had seen the muddy bald rat's tail sticking out of the coat's pocket. |  |
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Marsh Wyllop
