
It was late, and sure I had had a couple of glasses of chardonnay, but I sincerely felt clearheaded enough to peddle my way home without incident. It was a typical ride, the Brooklyn Bridge was flecked with a few kissing couples and a handful of homeless stretched out on benches enjoying as best they could the finest view money can’t buy.
Within minutes I was zipping down Jay Street and as I turned onto Fulton, out of the corner of my eye I saw a fat, hairy, drooling rat racing straight for me. It appeared to be in pursuit of something, and I prayed it wasn’t me.
As it advanced from my left, I swerved right drawing my attention to the tiny, and cute in a mangy kinda way, mouse who was also making its way across the street. There was apparently a chase in progress. I swerved a bit more to the right and the little mouse turned and began running in the opposite direction but, in an attempt to get away from the hairy rat, turned back toward the wheels of the bike.
It all happened so fast, like passing frames in an animated flipbook. I didn’t see or feel a thing, which lead me to believe that I had cleared the bitty little creature. But, when I looked behind me I could see the little fella flopping around. And as he chirped out in pain, the fat salivating rat slowly approached what would be the evening's main course.
No comments:
Post a Comment