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RAT-A-PHOOEY!

by FRANK O'DONNELL
JULY 18, 2007

We've got trouble, my friends.

Four-legged, bewhiskered, cheese-eating trouble. Small, gray bundles of despised mammaldom.

Rats, my friends, have infested our small town.

Okay, maybe we haven't reached infestation level yet, but there have been enough recent rat sightings in one section of town to merit a special Town Hall meeting.

These aren't cute little Disney rats - the kind that cook at five-star restaurants in Paris. These aren't medical test rats either - the kind who sacrifice themselves for the good of mankind.

These are the kind of rats Stephen King might write about, the kind of rats that Michael Jackson once sang about.

Yucky, disgusting rats.

Centredale appears especially hard-hit. Mild winters, demolished buildings and a burst dam in a nearby stream have been offered as explanation for the increase in the "Willard" population.

It seems nothing can stop these rodents. They've chewed through vinyl, Masonite, even concrete to get to the garbage they call food.

Even the most vigilant homeowners - the ones who meticulously tie up their trash in proper bags and put them in proper receptacles - are not immune.

And once they find food, they stay.

Folks at the meeting suggested that homeowners switch over to galvanized metal trash cans with locking lids.

Homeowners countered they'd do it in a heartbeat, if they could guarantee the cans would last longer than the first trash pickup.

What good is it to buy a gleaming new trash can, they wonder, if the refuse engineers are going to leave behind what looks like a giant crushed soda can?

This is a drastic situation. And drastic situations require drastic actions.

Poison was mentioned. Sure, that makes sense, but it sounds expensive.

If this were the Old West - and I don't dare suggest that it is - there would be a bounty on these small gray heads. We'd all be out there with our six-shooters, and bringing rat pelts to Town Hall on a regular basis. A dollar an ear is a good price - make sure you aim for the body.

We could go the way of Ancient Rome, and bring in cats to deal with our rat population. Let them roam the streets, and before you know it, the rats will be gone. Only problem is, what do you do to get rid of the cats?

When the German town of Hamelin had a rat problem, they hired the Pied Piper. He played a tune on his flute and led the rats to the river, where they all drowned. We've got the river nearby - the mighty Woonasquatucket. Now all we need is a Pied Piper. Not so easy to find. I checked the Yellow Pages, and the only Pied Piper I could find is a private school on the other side of the river.

I already called. They don't handle rats.

Then it struck me. What this town needs is a Rat Patrol. When I was growing up, "The Rat Patrol" was a pretty popular TV show about a quartet of Allied soldiers wreaking havoc on the Germans in North Africa during WWII.

I can see it now. Bring in two khaki Jeeps with .50-caliber machine guns on the back. One driver, one gunner in each Jeep. A few months of cruising the infested streets is all they'll need to clean up this town, and give the rats fair warning that they are not welcome in North Providence.

Meanwhile, I'll keep my eyes peeled for a Pied Piper.

Got issues? Got answers? Got free time on your hands? Then why not join the North Providence Gang?

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- Frank O' Donnell, a comic from North Providence, is the entertainment writer for the Breeze newspapers.