The Rat is Dead

The creature had been plaguing us for three days and nights. It was somewhere in my front room for three days and nights, and it was driving Rags insane. The poor old pooch got so uptight that he shat himself today - diahorrea everywhere. After reassuring my daughters that it would not chew through any cables, the creature chewed through our phone cable. I could not tolerate this undermining of my credibility in the eyes of my adoring children - enough is enough. I have stalked the creature with a 1.77 air pistol for two days. It's time to call in Dave the Dan, the man of many...

And so we did. By this time, the creature had been trapped up the chimney. We decided to smoke the bastard out. With fire ablaze I turned to Dave and said, half jokingly, "Let's just hope he doesn't fall into the fire and come charging out at us..."
Guess what! At that very moment there was a plop and a blurr of fur came streaking out of the ashes reducing Dave and I to girly shrieks (a hilarious sound of screams and kerfuffle according to my giggling family). Dave was stamping his foot on the floor, convinced the creature had run up his trouser leg. I was frozen on the spot for... I don't know how long.

However, we soon regained our composure and proceeded to hunt the creature. It was already hampered by the smoke and a pellet which I had winged it with yesterday. Eventually, - after numerous pot shots with the pea-shooter - I dispatched it with a fatal shot.

The taking of a life - even that of a big brown rat - is taken very seriously by the Sylvannian Family Community, to which I act as Community Daddy. And so Monty the wise weasel ("he's not an otter!"), and P.C. Badger came to inspect the body of the fallen rat who had dominated things round here over the last few days. Monty shock his head wearily, turned to myself and Dave the Dan, and said, scathingly - "don't give up the day jobs fellas."
"Mr Reeky ain't gonna like this," I muttered under my breath...