Outside the Rat's Nest

The Rat's Nest is a world unto itself, a Stella world and a Socar world. It has its own customs and its own politics, and little congress with the world beyond. In the Rat's Nest, shoes are left at the entrance, but coats are worn all day. Offerings are made to bronze rat-gods, in hopes of future prosperity. Dried squid-chews are eaten, and dried rats are kept in boxes and jars. Papers are stockpiled and pencils are lost. Socks circulate between hiding-places, now cozied up between the window and the blinds, now hanging over the radiator, now lurking under the bed.

This world is divided into two regions: there's the Province of Lysol to the south, and the Province of Rubbish to the north. (The Regent of Refuse, Stella, is discouraged from crossing the border, but often sneaks through anyway, disguised as a pile of newspaper clippings.) The Rat's Nest is a very quiet place, a very reasonable place, where everything's always precisely as one would expect. The Rat's Nest has a routine, governed by its own peculiar logic, and rarely deviates from it. So calm, so serene is the Rat's Nest, that the river of time bends here; dallies, for a moment, before proceeding to the sea.

On the other side of those doors, there's the Silly World. I call it the Silly World because every time I go out in it, something silly happens. This is the story of an excursion into the teeming Silly Jungle, otherwise known as Metrotown Center.

Now, I hate Christmas shopping, me. I hate the crowds and the begging children and the piped-in Jingle Bells. (Jingle bells, Batman smells!) I hate the green and red everything, and the perverts in Santa suits. I hate holly, I hate ivy, and I bloody hate mistletoe. Accordingly, my shopping mission was all about speed: I'd get in a quick bargain-hunt, then duck into the arcade for some fun. Prudently (or so I thought) I'd taken my wheelchair along, hoping to avoid a repeat of the Getting Stuck in a Bus Stop for Hours Incident. It worked, too, in that no bus-stop sticking was involved. There was only one flaw: I got stuck in a department store, instead.

I blame it on the wheelchair. See, I couldn't afford the one I wanted (one of those ultra-light jobbies, with the cushiony seats and the adjustable headrests), so I had to get the next-best thing. On my budget, that ended up being a second-hand one the Pharmasave had stored in the back. It's got uneven footrests, pockmarked upholstery, and only one brake. Whenever I take it to the airport, they think it's one of theirs and try to hang onto it. Worst of all, it was made to accommodate someone three times my size, and is as wide as a barn door. It's so wide, indeed, that I can hardly get it out of the Rat's Nest without the wheels scraping the doorframe.

Nonetheless, get it out I did, and all the way to Metrotown, to boot. I made it to Zellers (I have--and don't you dare laugh--a lot of Club Zed points, or HBC Rewards, or whatever the hell they're calling 'em these days). I had arrived. All I had to do, now, was grab a few generic gifts and scram my rat's arse out of there. Except--except, that was when THIS happened (Figure A):

"Okay," I told myself, taking a deep breath. "I got in somehow, didn't I? If I can just turn around and--

(bonk, clatter, rustle)

--if I can just turn around, and--

(bonkety-clatter, RUSTLE-RUSTLE-RUSTLE, BONK-CLATTER BONK!)

--ah. Can't turn around. Maybe I can go backwards."

(CRASH!)

"Oh, dear. Hope nobody saw that. I'll just pick this up, then, shall I?"

(Creeeeak.)

"Unbelievable. I can't reach. What now? Oh, if I could only see over these clotheshorses! How strange would it look if I was to just, you know, get up for a moment, have a look round?" (I mean, really, how strange would that look? You don't see people popping up out of wheelchairs every day, all hale and hearty and wandering about the place. People might think I was just an extra-lazy type, using the wheelchair to avoid having to walk.)

"I'll try reaching again. Or--or maybe I can reach with my foot."

(Creeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaak!)

"Faugh! I'll just have to get up, won't I? If nothing else, I can't very well leave these trousers on the floor. Right. One, two, three--pop!"

(Wheeeeeee!) "Wheeeeeeee," for the uninitiated, is the sound of a freshly-liberated wheelchair making a break for it, leaving its erstwhile rider stranded in a forest of discount clothes.

"No! Come back here!"

At this point, Figure A became Figure B:

One of the bamboozled spectators, a kind lady who reminded me of my late grandmother, caught my wheelchair mid-flight, and insisted on pushing me to safety. Her grandkids, still giggling, were pressed into service as trouser-hangers. I appreciated the assistance immensely, but, having been forced untimely from the clotheshorse jungle, I was still empty-handed.

"I know," I thought--"I'll go round the boutiques, instead. I can make wee guerrilla-style raids on the racks nearest the doors, and just hand my credit card to the salesladies instead of approaching the counters."

And then--

(read this all in one breath!)

And then, I couldn't find an elevator, and then I couldn't find any salesladies, and then I lost my hat, and then I found it, but someone had spat in it. Then I bought a new hat, but it kept coming down over my eyes, and then, brim-blinded, I spilled a chai latte down my crotch. I spent a hundred dollars (most of it on the hat, and all of it on myself), where I'd meant to spend fifty (on gifts for other people), and couldn't afford the arcade. So I decided to go home and play ADOM instead, but I couldn't find the elevator again, and then I couldn't find the way out. There was a pervert at the Skytrain station--of course!--so I had to take a taxi, and the driver thought I was from out of town because of my accent, and took the long way. I gave him a decent tip regardless, and then I noticed he'd shut the boot on my wheelchair, putting a big dent in the frame.

(You can breathe now, but keep reading, for the unkindest cut of all:)

And then--and then, a rat bit me. (That, of course, was Stella, who was narked because I'd gone off all day and left her locked up in her cage.)

Today will be better.