The Dead Rat

February 8th, 2002

I had an informant working on the inside of the clown pact. A greedy little mole named Mr. Tickles. I had captured him one night (about a month or so back) when he was raiding my pudding cups; I wanted a pudding cup late one night and found him belly up in the fridge next to ten empty puddings. Naturally, rage took over and I was about to throw the son of a bitch in the microwave, but he pleaded with me and wanted to strike a deal. I listened to what he had to offer and it was good enough to let him live. Mr. Tickles would slip information to me regarding what the clowns were planning next in exchange for free butterscotch pudding cups. Three cups for every piece of information.

Damn things are worse than leprechauns. No morals.

Anyway...

Well, things were going great. I knew ahead of time about their guerilla strikes on me as well as their plans for world domination and my "mole" was getting his pudding cups without having to make nightly raids on my fridge.

Then...it happened.

Mr. Tickles started giving me less and less information. He said that there were rumblings in the inner sanctum of the miniature clown underworld; rumblings of a "Stool Pigeon" and "Dirty Rat Fink" in the family. The upper echelons were watching. He was fearful of being caught and what would happen to him. Luckily, I had pudding cups. Butterscotch pudding cups. He couldn't resist.

A few more weeks went by and I managed to avoid their traps and ambushes, but Mr. Tickles stopped showing up for pudding cups. It was odd.

Then a few days ago, after coming home from work, I knew why...

Hmmm...I don't remember the bed being made when I left for work.

Oh no...Mr. Tickles!

Those dirty clown bastards!

I didn't know what to do. It was obvious that the clowns were on to me. It was also obvious that Mr. Tickles was an example of what would happen to any other clown that slipped information to me. I wasn't quite sure what to do with what was left of Mr. Tickles

So...I did the first thing that came to mind. I let the cat have him.

What do you think, Comanche? Does it taste good?

Exxxxxxcellent!