Hey, Rat-so. I warned you,,,,

Me: look at the size of that turd! Did a gecko pinch out that growler?
Her: No dumbass, that’s a rat turd.
Me: And just how thee hell do you know that?
Her: They call me,,,,, The Rat Whisper-er,, that’s how.

For the last couple years we have had our fair share of rat invasions. Don’t know why it happened when it did but they have found us and others here in the Breach.
Mrs. Barn is better at catching them than me so like everything else around here, whoever is better at it, gets the job. Hence the name Rat Whisper-er.
We prefer to use live traps, less messy because that's what Jesus would do. Plus Carl, the man who delivers beer, takes them to feed his snakes.

His snakes eat goooood! And if you think about it, and I’m sure you do/will, when a snake eats a rat, he eats everything there is including the contents of his bowels, stomach, all the hair, eyeballs, tail, fingers, gums, dingleberries, everything! And when you see a snake turd the only clue is a tuft of fur sticking out.
Mrs. Barn even goes the extra mile to fatten them up while waiting to be delivered to Carl. How sweet.
I have tried to block off all possible entries to the houses and I may have succeeded but we shall see.

While perusing the isles the other day I came across this rat trap presumably from the time of the Inquisition! Fuck,, don’t step on that in the middle of the night on the way to the can!



Jingle Bowels:

What happens to your digestive system after a long weekend of food and booze over the holidays.

"Dude, I cant's get off the shitter, I got a bitchin case of Jingle Bowels!"