"We need you here tonight," Slimsy insisted. "Either you complete this order or I'm going to have to send you packing."
Sneakers squeaked in resignation and put down the receiver. He rubbed his temples softly.
Sneakers unhooked the window and climbed onto the roof. He was meaning to install a zip line , but for the moment he was just happy his shaky ladder was still there. It was actually two ladders connected in the middle with duct tape. As he looked at the house from the street, green light glowed out of the windows like someone had placed a bunch of those Ghost Busters traps in his house. But alas, they hadn't, the ghost was still in there going strong.
He didn't know exactly what would happen when her hands caught him, but he figured he'd probably turn into a similar creature. He briefly considered this is an option; maybe he'd have more fun as one of whatever she was. They could work things out and get remarried.
But then again, rather than become a ghost, he may simply die or endure lifetimes of suffering. He turned his key, but the Acura wouldn't start. He began walking, it was only a couple of miles.
An uneventful walk became eventful when a walking advertisement tried to sell him a horse. This is how these cutthroat businessmen were; little did it care that he had no money or need for a horse. As it continuously attempted to hand it to him, it clearly also could not consider the fact that the horse was thirty times bigger than Sneakers.
The walking ad had obviously stolen someone's shoes and appropriated them to it's massive size somehow. The horse didn't look too happy either.
"C'mon man, 10 dollars.... 5 dollars! 3 dollars, that's as low as I'll go!"
Sneakers blew smoke in the guy's face on accident.
"Hey lemme have one of those cigars!"
He ducked into a cafe and pulled the brim on his hat down. Just as you'll find a Chicago themed bar in Burbank, California, this was a rat bar in Cat Town. There was even a rat pride flag hanging outside. Still, the majority of the bar was occupied by cats.
"Efforts to integrate the group using a pool table, darts, or a jukebox have all failed," the owner said into the camera. He was a half-cat, half-rat hybrid. There was something wrong with the inside of his ears.
Even at times like these, Sneakers still wanted to enjoy a nice drink. He liked to drink juice out of tea pots, often heating them up first. This was a thing most rats enjoyed, as was the custom. His personal preference was for the ones that looked like teas. Shit was awfully expensive though. "$10 bucks for a tea?"
He found a hat at the bar. Smelling it, he sensed notes of cat hair. Ancient rat eskimos believed wearing the clothing of your enemies would allow you to avoid their detection. He thought he remembered hearing this somewhere.
"Hey!" a voice boomed from behind him. "Rat here stole my hat!" Sneakers dove to the bars floor and crawled for cover, assuming his true rat form.
A hideous rat family and their baby sat in a booth to his left. They had some top of the line baby-rearing equipment, all of the name brand stuff. And they were those giant kind of sewer rats. Sneakers crawled underneath their legs popped up on the other side, burrowing into the baby's stroller when given a moment.
"Ah, I see you there. A fellow rat," the rat father said. "Would you like to listen to us talk about our shitty baby forever?"
He looked outside, the bad billboard was still there. He was attempting to blend in with other billboards, but with the shoes he stood out like a pink hat with an orange bill.
He looked at the hideous father, who was more hideous than before.
Pulling the hat down over his entire body, he proceeded to roll out of the stroller, off of the table and towards the exit.
As Sneakers stepped outside, he realized this whole thing had just been to avoid going to work. But he didn't want to be at home either.
Sneakers squeaked in resignation and put down the receiver. He rubbed his temples softly.
He didn't know exactly what would happen when her hands caught him, but he figured he'd probably turn into a similar creature. He briefly considered this is an option; maybe he'd have more fun as one of whatever she was. They could work things out and get remarried.
But then again, rather than become a ghost, he may simply die or endure lifetimes of suffering. He turned his key, but the Acura wouldn't start. He began walking, it was only a couple of miles.
An uneventful walk became eventful when a walking advertisement tried to sell him a horse. This is how these cutthroat businessmen were; little did it care that he had no money or need for a horse. As it continuously attempted to hand it to him, it clearly also could not consider the fact that the horse was thirty times bigger than Sneakers.
The walking ad had obviously stolen someone's shoes and appropriated them to it's massive size somehow. The horse didn't look too happy either.
"C'mon man, 10 dollars.... 5 dollars! 3 dollars, that's as low as I'll go!"
Sneakers blew smoke in the guy's face on accident.
"Hey lemme have one of those cigars!"
He ducked into a cafe and pulled the brim on his hat down. Just as you'll find a Chicago themed bar in Burbank, California, this was a rat bar in Cat Town. There was even a rat pride flag hanging outside. Still, the majority of the bar was occupied by cats.
"Efforts to integrate the group using a pool table, darts, or a jukebox have all failed," the owner said into the camera. He was a half-cat, half-rat hybrid. There was something wrong with the inside of his ears.
Even at times like these, Sneakers still wanted to enjoy a nice drink. He liked to drink juice out of tea pots, often heating them up first. This was a thing most rats enjoyed, as was the custom. His personal preference was for the ones that looked like teas. Shit was awfully expensive though. "$10 bucks for a tea?"
He found a hat at the bar. Smelling it, he sensed notes of cat hair. Ancient rat eskimos believed wearing the clothing of your enemies would allow you to avoid their detection. He thought he remembered hearing this somewhere.
"Hey!" a voice boomed from behind him. "Rat here stole my hat!" Sneakers dove to the bars floor and crawled for cover, assuming his true rat form.
A hideous rat family and their baby sat in a booth to his left. They had some top of the line baby-rearing equipment, all of the name brand stuff. And they were those giant kind of sewer rats. Sneakers crawled underneath their legs popped up on the other side, burrowing into the baby's stroller when given a moment.
"Ah, I see you there. A fellow rat," the rat father said. "Would you like to listen to us talk about our shitty baby forever?"
Sneakers checked his watch. He couldn't afford to lose his job, it was too specialized.
He looked at the hideous father, who was more hideous than before.
Pulling the hat down over his entire body, he proceeded to roll out of the stroller, off of the table and towards the exit.
As Sneakers stepped outside, he realized this whole thing had just been to avoid going to work. But he didn't want to be at home either.
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