Over the weekend after serious clubbing in KL, I can say I was too high to drive but there was no designated driver available. Something happened about 100 metres from my house at 4.15am. I ran over a living being with my car. I ran over a rat with my car. I guess I should actually say I killed a rat with my car because I didn’t just run over it. I also killed it. And if I didn’t say that I killed it I would be lying. There were actually two rats, but I only hit and killed one of them. If I had killed both of them I would have already admitted it, obviously. But I didn’t kill both of them. I just killed one of them. (I know, I'm getting annoying)
I’m pretty sure that the rat I killed was in love with the rat I did not kill. I know this because after I ran over and killed the one rat, the other living rat landed close to the dead rat’s body and started crying. I know that the living rat cried because I saw the whole thing in my rear view mirror as I sped away. Even though I was driving faster than normal, faster than I should have been driving, too fast to have seen the two rats in time to stop, I could see everything in my rear view mirror. I suppose the rats could have been siblings, or a mother and child, or maybe even cousins because you never know with rats. But from what I saw in my rear view mirror as I sped away, I’d testify that the rat I ran over and killed with my car was in love with the living rat then crying at its side.
If the rats really were related, if they really were siblings or a mother and child combo, then I would have turned my car around, sped back to the scene and killed the other rat. I would do the living loving rat a favor so that it can be with the dead rat in rat heaven. OR The world just doesn’t need incestuous rats.
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