Rats ... among other things

Greetings, Gate! Say Jack, dig this: downtown P.A. has big rat problem. Big as in muy grande. Rat as in the large sized brown kind. If I'm not mistaken, those were the rats that carried the plague back in the 1300s. The problem was centered, so I'm told in one place, a restaurant, and was kept on the q.t., very hush-hush. But word gets around, especially when the business downstairs is a restaurant too and one of the chefs also works at the eatery across the street.

Today we found one of the rats in the courtyard downstairs, poisoned and slowly dying. Apparently rats are fleeing the scene in droves and heading out across other shops on the street. I had to call one of the residents on the street behind the afflicted restaurant and have them spread the word tp their neighbors that poisoned rodents were on the loose and to keep an eye on their numerous cats.

It was rather busy the other day at work, but amidst the bustle of the day's capitalist endeavors, a rather curious thing happened. I had just finished shelving a few items and turned into the aisle headed for elsewheres when I nearly collided with a strikingly beautiful young lady. It is not, alas, all that often that I very nearly crash into beautiful young ladies, so I always take the opportunity to take note of the oofy girl in question. She was tall, with shoulder length brunette hair with Bettie Page bangs, flawless make up, sunglasses, an expensive looking knee length skirt with matching blazer, seashell pink blouse and spendy looking high heels. She was not only well-dressed, she was over dressed for our area. Even the professional women look rather dowdy in this town. What struck me as especially curious was the fact that she was following a guy who was wearing a sweatshirt, baseball cap and jeans and not just following, but following a few paces behind him and obviously doing so. Also curious was the fact that while they were evidently together, the were also evidently obvlivious to one another. The both left after a while, the girl following the guy as she had when I first saw her. Odd.

I asked J., after the hectic rush of capitalism had abated, if she'd seen the girl and her companion and after a bit of thinking she said she had and had also remarked not only on the girl's clothes but on the guy she was with. "I think she's a call girl," J. said. I'm not entirely sure J. was off the mark on her assessment.

H'mmm ...