Rangmuir Rat Infestation:Ok so here’s the deal. There is this village on an island, lets call it Hong Fisland. Now this village we’ll call Rony Mook. At this university there’s a lot of people and clubs and whatever but the only ones that matter in the least are a handful of kids in Rangmuir College. So theres this extremely rich guy from upstate we’ll call Rick

 , his superstar girlfriend Modie, her culturally exotic roomie Moamie and Rick’s two right legs/roomies Rarthur and Revin.

 Now Rick and Rarthur enjoy casually puffing Cool Stix outside at regular non-sleep intervals.

Normally this is where a particular séance is described but really nothing super remarkable ever happens. In fact usually the two casually meander outside, reflecting on the current and ongoing problems of life: world hunger, old people dying, Obama’s political career, Fable… until they feel their cool meter us maxed and at least 4 people have seen them.

 At this point they pack it up, wrap it up, swipe the key, and depending on the time of day hold out the door behind them for a stray person or two being the noble men they are. Once in a while you get that guy who forgets his key and waits outside ackwardly for someone to swipe him in.

 The only time this scenario changes is between the hours of 9pm and 4am when a minimum of 2 guests accompanies Rick and his right leg. Typically Modie and Moamie fill those slots but sometimes a Revin or a Rucker or a Rosh or a Jeagen or an upstate and spitting gold wealthy Jevin will come along. As they are escorting more people outside it is customary to swipe a few extra inside, often including a few stragglers coming through the back enterance after a late night stroll.

  

The best thing about Rick’s right leg Revin was his fascination with magic color emitting pieces of plastic, presence of trees indoors, and the aroma of heated chemical compounds in small furnaces. His zeal for the three of these, both of which are categorically prohibited under penalty of near death, made him a favorite with the girls downstairs and the cool stix club aswell. So well were the dimpled man’s winter decorations liked that even the local rule enforcer/ patrolman RA Theg, these boys’ neighbor, overlooked and concealed this contraband and joy paraphernalia.

With the chance of seasons and half the upstairs wing going from stale gym scent to peppermint, pumpkin, and cinnamon, Rick became easily convinced by the seductive candle, siren scented pinecones, and shixa strung lights to be an Oscar Meyer and stand up his classes to sleep. One day in particular Rick woke up after a particularly comfortable sleep concluded with a

dream about making so much money off one of Santa’s elves and something involving falling pinecones to discover that Boy was he hungry! His tummy rumbled like a beast and he called out for Cowboy Lucky Luke to tell him what to do. “What does this mean!?!?” Unfortunetly his cowboy roomy was too absorbed in nap and youtube to hear Rick over his, as Rarthur’s name suggests, dinosaur music (created by a middle aged man who thinks he can pass as a real life dinosaur).

Rick went on to BBM his sometimes confused honey who told him that he ought to go to Psyc. “Really doubt the problem is my

tummy wants me to go to Psyc…” Modie suggested Rick go downstairs and eat some pie his mommy was baking for him and his right legs when it was done. Rick thought this was a stupendous idea!

First it was smoke time though. Lucky Luke was still slumbering away so Rick went solo. Two

men walked in as Rick opened the door.

Behind them Rick spotted his friends He-Here and Charath and the two conversed idly for a bit before becoming cold and walking back in. As Rick swiped his card and opened the door, an ugly lady cut him off and ran in ahead of him, flashing him a flirtatious smile.

At this point He-here laughs along with this strange man kneeling in the grass a few feet away who then asks to be let in aswell.

Now Rick decides it’s pie time and marches bravely into the modernized B class mental asylum horror movie catacombs that Rony Mook calls the basement. Overlooking the broken glass, ooze creeping from the ceiling, poor lighting, puddles of water, and the stench of death and fear, Rick sidesteps a passed out junky wino creep clinging to an empty laundry bag. Rounding the corner he comes face to face with a janitor pushing a shopping cart full of empty bottles, rags, needles,

cosmetics, a fork, char, and porcupine. Nearly falling into the cart, Rick catches himself and the janitor mumbling an apology rushes off across the basement. Moving on, Rick walked in and sat at the termite infested plywood tables and ate his slice of still warm pumpkin pie. Time for a trip to Taco Bell!

The trio rolled into the parking lot in style, rockin to Aqua with the windows down in

Revin’s purple station wagon. Hey don’t judge, at least he has a car. You can never have enough Taco Bell! Rick’s personal philosophy…so much so that his skin thinks so as well. As soon as Rick finishes making SO MUCH MONEY he plans to have this written across his abdomen such that “You can” is centered above the navel; “Never have enough” is written around the navel; and “Taco Bell!” is written centered under the navel. Haiku style. This way after, like today for example, 8 tacos and 2 burritos

and 2 cans of juice that Rarthur found in the pocket of the hoodie he claims is his but clearly isn’t because it’s a size XL and thus painfully obviously screams “Moamie”, Rick’s abdomen expanded so much that the “Never” would be totally removed from visible range as it struggles to play hide and seek around his back. Rick could now say that “You can have enough Taco Bell!” Two cans of juice at once is a hell of a thing. Hence the creative tat idea. All of which took about 10 minutes, some ketchup, drawing, and a few “No dude, you’re not listening!” ‘s to convey to his roomies. Rarthur thought he had been rambling about wanting to body paint for the Friday football game…and something about money, which made no sense because they hated games that require massive exertion of

force on the hip socket. Being Ex-Pre-Med hip socket erosion is a too real concern.

Revin became the most confused, concentrating on the belly part and the Taco Bell part which led to him yelling angry terms and declaring them already AT Taco Bell. Even going as far as introducing Rick to the cashier and the country. To which Rick responded with a “I’m from upstate” and a “No, you’re not listening!!” We’re talking about Revin going to the length of making labels for himself, Rarthur, Rick, the Taco Bell sign, and the counter. We’re not really sure where Revin got a label maker but that’s not at all the point here. Eventually everyone caught up and ordered.

On the way back to campus, Rick passed the time by BBM’ing Modie. They mostly discussed Muggins but eventually started talking about the boa that supposedly still lives in Chenadict College and the alleged rat problem that winter brings. Mutually they decided to attempt to find this snake…after nap time.

At some point in the next day Rick and Modie returned to her room and were greeted by the most linguistically gifted lady this side of the Green Mile. She was aware of this idea of finding the boa and asked about it. The duo, who had been gone about 15 minutes explained that oh it was now nap time and they wound up just picking up some grapes instead.

However in the bathrooms? Yeah it wasn’t there.

For once, everyone elected to attend that week’s hall council as Revin was the surprise guest. During this meeting, the issue of rat problems was discussed and firm scoldings were issued for leaving food laying around as they claim the problem is especially bad this year with

over 60 total.

Rick later asked Revin if he was worried about his candle attracting 60 rats. Revin responded that by asking if Rick had ever seen a single rat. Of course he hadn’t, nobody had. Something about these rats just didn’t sit well with Rick…

Rick ran into RA Theg later and passively aggressively demanded to know where the rats lived. A confused RA could only respond with “What?”. “The rats! Where are they?”

The basement…that would make sense Rick decided. The story seemed to be that enormous sums of money were spent containing the rats to the basement. All day Rick obsessed over that notion. Something about it upset him… That night was another Joose night.

After Rick and his right legs each consumed 3 Jooses each, not including the amounts consumed by other guests, except for Rarthur who kept “sobering up” and ended the night consuming a total of 5 cans of Joose and two shots of 151 and 10 oz of Vodka…no big deal just worth mentioning for completeness. As usual, drunk banter was exchanged. This particular conversation takes place with Revin perched above the door having successfully climbed the towel rack this time singing “Part of Your World” from the Little Mermaid at the top of his lungs swaying back and forth. Rick and Rarthur sat on opposite sides of the room.

-Rarthur: Rick can you get me the Xbox remote?

-Rick: Sorry, can’t. Need to save my hip socket movement for something more important. You can only move your legs so many times you know?

-Rarthur: Yeah then it hurts.

-Rick: Yeah I kno-

-Rarthur: No you’re not listening! Dude, Vicodin

-Rick: Oh…

*Silence*

-Rick: Or we could fake

-Rarthur: YES!!

…Can you roll me a cool stix?

This brought back what RA Theg had said earlier about money. So much money. Rats! “Damnit Rat!” Rarthur, even “not sober” as he calls it, was confused by this answer. “What?” Rick exploded into an angry rant about how he wouldn’t have to roll like a poor 3rd wold sweatshop child if they didn’t charge so much for housing. They wouldn’t charge so much for housing if there were less rats! Rarthur by this point had given up on both understanding Albany Rick and the xbox and rolled over to sleep off his non-sobriety.

…

“Betcha on land they understand.

They don’t reprimand their daughters.

Proper women

Sick of Swimmin’

Ready to stand…”

   

[Insert giant Boom here]

The next afternoon Rick got up and with the coaching of Modie did his laundry. Going down the stairs into the basement, Rick walked cautiously, looking for rats. In the morning light, on the scattered floor of Rick’s room he had found his long lost little red socks with white frill and bells. He made sure to put these with the colors as he put clothes into two separate washers. He said a quick prayer to Baby Jesus that he still had enough Campus Cash to pay for his laundry. He had already poured the detergent so that would be yucky to grab up again and put away which is why his plan had been to play the banjo till he had $4 for laundry. Somewhat

disappointed, he put away the banjo and triangles and turned them on.

  

Carrying the instruments and empty bag upstairs he avoided a near collision with a hunched bearded man. Rick made a mental note to self to pay more attention to where he’s walking.

32 minutes later Rick transferred his wet but clean clothes to the drier and 64 minutes later he was upstairs folding them. Laundry day complete.

A few days later Rarthur and Rick were outside refilling the cool meter both mentally and physically as it was so cold that it was too cold to snow even. So cold was it that two seconds after stepping outside Rick apologetically informed his nicotine addiction to get over itself because it was clearly too cold to smoke. Turning on his heels and leaving Rarthur behind, Rick went inside followed by another man with a jingle to his step. Rarthur called out to Rick but Rick just called back that he was old enough to smoke by himself now and went back upstairs.

“Brohiem” After his smoke Rarthur went back up to find Rick. “Your socks are not up in this bitch!” “Let me guess,” Rick said “They’re up in some other bitch?” “No seriously did you not

see that guy wearing them outside?” Now Rick did recall that the man behind him had a jingle to his step… “NO!!!” Rick tore the room apart looking for those beloved socks to no avail. Angrily

Rick marched to RA Theg’s door and pounded heavily when he opened the door still sleepy eyed. Theg was greeted with a “It does in fact… seem that my socks… are not up in this bitch.”

“What?” Rick informed Theg that a man fitting the description he and Rarthur had collaboratively written down fully and completely with detail onto a piece of paper he now

handed to Theg whom had stolen his red Christmas socks with bells and white frill. Theg told Rick that he was worried about him; told him to lay off the china white. There was no middle

aged residents nor janitors that were a middle aged man with two scars on the side of his face in the shape of a banana that met up in the middle with an eye patch, frizzy curly orange hair, the

look of a crazy in his eyes, a scraggly beard, a broken nose, very few teeth, two at most, on rollerblades with a hunchback. A pretty sleepy and seriously ticked off Theg said that the only things stealing clothes were rats. Well if rats were stealing his socks then the rats Rick would be finding. Especially any giant hunchback giant human sized rats fitting his written description.

Banjo and triangles in hand, Rick headed downstairs. He had borrowed Revin’s santa hat with a bell in the white pompom tip as bait. He loaded up the washing machine and hid behind in wait.

The cycled ended and no rat or scraggly man appeared. Rick threw the hat into the drier and again waited. Again the cycled ended and no sign of the sock thief. The hat had also shrunk to the size of a grapefruit. Oh Revin was gonna be so pissed! He’d decided to say it got mixed in with his wash and the rat had taken it. Thus he threw it out. Leaving the laundry room he ran

right into that rude scary looking yet uncomfortably flirtatious woman who had rushed the door

on him the week before.   In the collision she dropped some cardboard signs she had been carrying, got up, and before Rick could apologize ran down the hall with a flirtatiously sinister giggle and into one of those old classrooms that nobody uses anymore. “Gross” Rick went to ask Revin or Rarthur to brunch with him.

On the way back the three casually chatted about thumbtacks when they spooted a funny looking man up ahead. “Revin please tell me that is a non-rat human male.”

Revin confirmed it. “Good because I think he has your Santa hat…” There was in fact an able bodied octogenarian frolicking through the grass

with Timms, a pair of badly cut Capri pants, flannel, and an oversized coat paired with a beanie and on top of the beanie was a tiny Santa hat. Revin recognized the bell and freaked “How did he

get my hat!” Rick thinking fast replied “That bastard must have broken into our room and washed it and stolen it!!” Revin took off after the man.

“Washed it huh” Rarthur questioned knowing full well what Rick had been up to.

Half an hour later the trio was sitting with campus security. Revin had succeeded in getting his hat back and giving a good beating in exchange for a few scratches and a black eye. Campus police seemed to buy the story because they were soon released. Looking at the time standing outside Chumanities they declared 15 minutes too little time to get to Pavits for Bio lecture and wawlked back to Rangmuir, Revin flaunting the black eye and shrunken hat to everyone they sort of knew along the way.

Ever since that day Rick began doing laundry every other day. Modie was very proud of her boyfriend Rick. However she has been known to be a good influence, unlike his right legs. Now clearly he wasn’t doing obsessive amounts of laundry to spend the campus cash nor have clean clothes but rather to find the Rat Man with his socks.

On this particular day on his way downstairs, Rick noticed them cleaning out the old classrooms the creepy lady had run into. The janitors had pulled out piles of trash and rags and crackhouse worthy couches, shopping carts, etc. Rick stared for a while then went on to do

another eventless round of laundry. Smoke time.

Outside the cool stix duo puffed the last 5 years off their life, which is ok because those years are crappy anyway. Casually they observed an RV that had been parked across the street

start up and leave. Looking in the tinted windows from a far Rarthur said “Hey isn’t that the guy Revin beat up in the back seat?” “Yeah…and theres that creepy lady from the basement….”

Turning to walk back inside they nearly ran into two statues being fixed to the ground.

So engrossed had they been in watching the RV that they had obviously ignored the crew asking them to move so they could mount these statues of Winston Churchill and an angry bear. The crew had given up and built around the two men. Admiring the statues and a bit puzzled over what the two had to do with one another, Rick inspected the inscription on Churchill: “You don’t live here!” A mildly “not sober” Rarthur was beyond puzzled, showing is ID card to a stone Churchill and asking Rick to please for the love of God tell this man that he did in fact live here. Rick told him to just go around but Rarthur as he attempted to do so came face to face with that scary looking multicolored bear and Rick was forced to walk him to the main entrance. As they left, the build crew could be heard muttering “Let’s hope it works as well on them as it does “not sober” college kids.” “Cool” muttered a second in agreement. “Rick! They think we’re cool!” “They sure do…”

A few hours later on the boys’ last smoke before bed, everyone was sober enough to smoke by the D wing entrance, in spite of the multicolored bear and Churchill. Nothing eventful happened until a janitor chased out a man from that D wing entrance, threatening him with a broom raised above his head yelling “Now for the last time don’t come back! You can’t squat here!” As the squatter ran off, Rick caught a well lit glimpse of him and realized who it was. “ the middle aged rat-man with two scars on the side of his face in the shape of a banana that met up in the middle with an eye patch, wild curly orange hair, the look of a crazy in his eyes, a scraggly beard on rollerblades with a hunchback!” “No Rick, just homeless… a horde of cold flirtatious homeless people.” Rarthur corrected. And off Rick went to, like Revin, get his socks back.