Aftermath Report

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I apologize for such a long delay in the reporting my friends. The heathen and me were dealing with our issues.

In my last report, I set up Operation Looney Tunes II, expecting victory over the beast with one head. It was not to be—the genius rodent was able to figure out the trap and merely laughed at us as he ran past it and hid once again. I lowered my head in total defeat. I was out of options, and this goddamn monster had beaten me. I was so ashamed.

As I prepared to raise the white flag and call for a surrender agreements, my father, the elder commander, came up with the ultimate, last-ditch effort. As he laid the plan out, I could think of nothing smarter! Here I was, trying to outsmart the rodent at his own game, thinking like him, playing the game in HIS world. But I forgot the power I had! I'm human! I've got opposable thumbs! And most importantly, I've got the ability to clean out my garage!

That's it! That was the answer I needed! I could simply route out the creature! Yes, instead of luring him out, I'll go after him! Yes! That in The Art of War by Sun Tzu says to go after the enemy! Do not wait him out! Yes, yes, yes, I would finally have my victory!

And so, with the help of my dad, Operation Clean House was to be put into effect.

On a Saturday not long ago, we began the mission, slowly cleaning out, piece by piece, the lair of the beast. Me and my father alternated—one would move some stuff while the other leveled the 9mm Beretta handgun at the area, waiting for the beady-eye filth to show himself. Why we felt blowing him to smithereens would solve anything is beyond me, but hey, he pissed us off, and the Opposable-Thumbs were getting our revenge.

But PETA people, animal rights activists, and those who like rodents, breathe easy. We didn't get to inject a hollow point full metal jacket 9mm round into him—in fact, we didn't even get to shoot him. No my friends….

The rat had abandoned the lair.

I assume he conducted some surveillance inside, using several bugging and electronic listening devices, finding out our intentions and knowing he was in grave danger. So he packed up shop, left lovely rat pellets for us, and bid us adieu.

We found the entrance and exit point for the bastard—a vent screen so flimsy a praying mantis could have broke into the garage. And that was the end—the Rat was successful. He was able to take ALL the bait that wasn't poison, laugh as he watched me set up two Looney Tunes-style traps, and then leave before we brought down the pain.

So it is over ladies and gentlemen. The war has ended in a stalemate—we got rid of the problem, but the problem lives. I wish I have a chance to see him again—I've got a 12 volt battery and a lot of copper wires to greet him….

Oh, and my garage is clean. I've got an idea that says the monster was watching me using the wet-vac to clean up pellets.

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