Rat Cigar 1

“Ah yes,” said Sneakers, as he took the last step up into the attic.  He pulled the chain to the attic door and the stairway folded in front of him. He liked to leave the light in the attic on, although he realized it might be the source of the rumors about his house with all of the neighborhood kids. He figured there was a reason they were all taking off at top speed when they saw the front door open.

He hurried up the stairs before darkness fell over the rest of the house. He secured all of the locks on the door, turned all of the lights on, and rushed over to his cigar box.  At night, the ghost of his ex-wife became visible and haunted the downstairs of the house they purchased together. Cigar smoke seemed to be the only thing that would keep her away.

It wasn't that he hadn't loved her. They had some good times, really. It was when inexplicably transformed from a beautiful old mouse into a bright blue sea-style tentacle ghost. For some reason, the smoke seemed to keep the ghost away. He exhausted his ideas to exorcise the ghost. As far as he could tell, there were no good exorcists in town he could afford.

In his free time, Sneakers liked to look up pictures of cigars online and read their descriptions.






He got all of his cigars in bulk when he married to Bernice. But in every old picture they had together, her visage had transformed to this ghastly creature she had become.




During the day he would roam the house freely. The ghost only became visible at night, glowing and leaving trails of smoke everywhere it went. Often she was sitting in an old rocking chair, sewing. She was much older than Sneakers.

Sneakers worked at The Puzzle Factory  in Cat Town. I know what you’re thinking, cats don’t like rats. They didn’t, but he walked quickly with a purpose and kept his eyes trained on the sidewalk in front of him. He didn't have many friends, other than the opossum, who was everyone's favorite character in the story.

Sneakers was running low on cigars, and the only decent cigar store was in Cat Town. Unfortunately, their hours of business were extremely inconvenient. He worked at standard 8:00-4:00 shift, and they were only open from 6:00 p.m. to 2:00 a.m every night. Ah who was he kidding, he was afraid to walk in that area so late at night.

Uh-oh, doorbell. It was probably the opossum, Sneakers thought. He was always showing up at inopportune times.

Opossum didn’t like to make it particularly clear what he was here for, and he would never fully commit to anything. Inexplicably, he was everyone's favorite character in the story. He didn’t believe in friendship. If pressed, he would say he was a guest at Rat's house.

Rat slowly descended the stairs, careful to smoke the hell out of that cigar. He opened the front door, but opossum wasn’t there. He looked in his long driveway, but his car was nowhere to be found.

He returned inside and opened the newspaper to the “crime” section. “The ding dong carjacker strikes again,” was the headline, but this paper was from weeks ago. Apparently his string of car jackings had continued.

It was the world he lived in. Unfortunately for him, this wasn't a rat's world. Rat's parents were somehow not rats, but he wasn't adopted. Some people just turn out weird.

But on the other hand, historically rats have had it pretty good. They could always eat just about anything they wanted, and if they got hungry enough they could eat something else.

Wait, whoops. When he looked a little further down the driveway, there it was. His Acura.

The check engine light had been on forever.

Uh oh, the phone rings. The caller ID says "Puzzle Factory." He doesn't want to pick it up. They never call you if something good is going on.

Our rat boy is an artist at , he receives special orders from clients to create custom made puzzles. He draws special orders and was highly respected in this niche field.

He picks it up. It's his boss Slimsy, a super-rich snaillike man sounds unhappy with the most recent project he had been working on.




Sneakers squeaked. He used inflection and varied cadences to compensate for his lack of language.

"Listen, Sneakers. You've been working for me for a long time. I was there for you when you lost your wife. I was there for you when you thought you found a better job for the board game factory, but they rescinded the offer."

Sneakers listened quietly. He considered the fact he was nearly done paying this house off. But his mind veered back to the cigars.

"Listen, Sneakers. We can't have you in here during the day anymore. You're always smoking those cigars, you're always bringing the morale down with your angry rat eyes. We're going to move you to the night shift."

Sneakers pleaded to do his work from home.