You’re a NIGHT-RAT-BOY the size of ONE POINT FIVE CATS, you have mistooken up entirely the size your species is supposed to be, and your head is too much a circle at the back end and a point at the front part, like a drawing of an ice cream cone in a clown’s hand. I don’t care for that. Be a cat or be a rat but don’t be one of both. Or at least be a cat the size of a mouse if you’re going to do that.
You’re like the Joker of animals but not even an original Joker, you’re the Halloween guys who dressed up as Heath Ledger so much ten years ago, but you have real knives in your mouth??
Your body’s always wearing FINGERLESS GLOVES, you’ve got fur on your forearms and yet NAKED FINGERS
plus there’s your slithery nude little shit-tail; I hate it
People want to mix you up with the okay-looking thing what’s in Australia. I’m not talking about Australia, I’m talking about you. Why are you always waddling across my porch smiling like Templeton from Charlotte’s Web? I didn’t invite you over.
WHY DON’T I KNOW WHAT YOU EAT? QUICK TIME GUESS: WHAT DOES A POSSUM EAT. YOU HAVE NO IDEA, AND NEITHER DO I. IS IT FRUIT? IS IT…NIGHT DIRT? IS IT OTHER RATS?
you lack gravitas you assed hole
MY FULL ENTIRETY OF A REACTION TO YOU CAN BE SUMMED UP THUSLY AND FOLLOWING: SHAVEN’T, NOT AS IN SHAVE-ENT BUT RHYMES-WITH-HAVEN’T. SHAVEN’T. I SHAVEN’T YOU. SHAVEN’T. YOUR WHOLE ENDEALMENT, I DON’T PRIZE.
you clarve holes into the dirt and hide yourselves there, dirt is only to live in once you’re dead and you are angering Hades
YOUR TAIL IS FULL OF THOUGHTS AND INTENTIONS AND YOUR MOUTH IS FULL OF MURDER
your fur is like Muppet fur and I don’t appreciate it
your babies clutch up on your back like a nest of pest-pellets and they cratchle-scrabble onto your skin with their little fist-knives which is not how babies should behave, babies oughtn’t to grasple-snatch, human babies don’t permanently breast-feed with their teeth and nails, you little vampire tots
the sound I always feel like you are making when I happen upon your lurkment patch is “SKEHHHH” and I don’t want you around me ever
Mallory is an Editor of The Toast.