So this is from my work in progress, Herbert the Rat.
Let me know your thoughts!
'tis a strange tale.
All these trials are worth it.
That’s what they’re telling me.
Or at least, that’s what my father always convinced me of. I had no reason not to believe him. After all, he’d raised me well enough and I’d grown to be just like him.
I did, right?
No matter. It doesn’t fucking matter. I’ve had enough of his shit, anyway. He’s constantly smiling while writing shit down on his notepad like I’m some kind of test subject. The worst part about that confident bastard is all his please-please-you speech pattern and deceptive charm. He just seems to give it out like a salesman. He’s not even a rat. He’s a man. I haven’t seen him since he sent me to this cage. What an asshole.
Like I didn’t fucking earn it. Our ears pointed and erect like our prominent noses. Everyone in our family has gotten some shit for the absurd positioning of our features. At least my dad found a nice gal like mom who would love more than simply judge like the other mice in Drench City. They didn’t love each other forever and visiting her grave only assures young romance is never meant to last, the flowers I plant keeps the tension low. I can’t help but think the disintegration of their love had something to do with me...they were divorced around the same time I was born. Over the time my stubby legs grew into lanky towers I saw my mother transform from youthful and thin to pale and plump. The weight sheltered her many children and large family, to say the least. I was the first born. I am the rat they want. I am the ultimate rat. They’ve just assured me I have to be cured until they say it’s time.
What a time it shall be.
The sad thing about being the first one who popped is that you can’t help but feel guilty for all the troubles both you and the pack undergoes.
It’s nothing keeping me out of the bar this day and night, as I’m penning this story on a liquor-stained napkin in a dimly lit tavern. The ecstasy of the pretty gals coming and going out the door remains and you can probably assume I’m still over excited and eager to chase these tails who continue to dilute and tease your humble narrator. The looks they give stay with me as I guzzle down the last of the harsh nectar, looking forward as I slam the cup for more fresh meat.
No one gives ‘ole Herbert a chance these days.
It’s not even that I’ve aged these past few years, only grown more isolated in my own terms and conditions. Working my ass off day and night in this class only pays off at the end of the week so you can pray you’ve got enough to keep you sheltered and sedated. Sedation seems to be the only real way to realize those daily woes you avoid telling your roommate, co-workers, boss, passing women...why unload such thoughts to them? In my lifetime they’ve only kept their nodding to make sure you’ll make it through the rest of the evening. In reality, they can’t even handle hearing you bitch. And if you’re even thinking of bringing some sweet lady back home, you won’t even dare make yourself seem vulnerable.
Yes, this is our world today. Everyone must work hard and keep their head on straight or you’re in the gutter or like me in a cage.
I do have a nice cage, though.
Simple and to the point. What I actually need and not what dad is trying to give me. He’s trying so fucking hard. He’s not like the white coaters. The white coaters know just where I need to be. They speak my language. They’ve been telling me all the things I never knew about myself for so long. They have the same uniform that fucker dad has. They’re dressed in formal attire with a meter and persona ready to kill, yet kind in their treatment. Somehow they know the cure for all of my tension. It’s all in the juice. I have to be in my cage, trotting on my wheel but still ready to be sedated in the time of element earth.
Element earth is the first stage in this unit. I’m only a small rat and there are so many others like me who are kept in isolation in their own personal unit. How lucky us rats are, to have our own personal cage at such a premature time.
The goal is: we’re not ready to be free yet.
So said the Doctor.
He says this because we have too much energy when we are bred. The mother whose milk kept us going in a way we couldn’t understand yet still embracing in womb was trying to kill us. Her milk is poison.
Freedom is earned. Being young means dumb.
Right?
The process of this is for us to grow and infiltrate as young mice so but train the mind in order to truly romanticize the glory of freedom.
I’ve always wanted the view.
The mountains I gaze at each night, romanticizing the beauty of 4:00 am insomnia, are waiting for me. I’ll be able to find my members by the time I’m free. I’ll be ready then.
We are those whose voices will be heard once the time is right. We know this for the doctor is always right.
Right?
We must be drugged in order to know love, they tell us. What does that even mean? Are they trying to show us the glory of **** with the grime of beauty? Protesting the higher word and fighting the vicious forces in charge only makes you a broke man with a crippled reputation. In my times of worrying, fighting, and defeat I’ve found keeping your mouth shut is the only way to go. People will always ask you if everything’s okay, if some underlying demon is pulling the strings to your heart...you know the drill. You can’t put yourself out there for shit these days. I try and stay optimistic. As optimistic as you can, that is. It’s not easy being among the last rat family in this universe. Ever since the mass extinction 25 five years ago, which occurred before even I could walk, my family were the only ones to survive.
Right?
Some days I’m wrong.
All I know is this here cage and the glorious wheel my energy becomes channeled in. Twice a day you’ll see me in my cage (the one with the fancy white lining that really puts the room together and attracts the white coats) running like a bat out of hell in sweat and fury. These are the golden years of my life; unfortunately I must spend them within the confines of this artificial life so they can one day release me and thus pure happiness.
Simple. To the point.
Like father said, these trials are worth it.
That’s why they keep me on the wheel.
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