To the rats

Dear rats:
I know it's been very cold lately--downright frigid, even. And I'm sorry that it's difficult to find a warm place to sleep outside, especially since the recent construction has eliminated all the steamy mulch piles along California Ave. But good news is ahead--the days are getting warmer so you won't be as desperate for a cozy space in the near future.

So small-talk aside, let me just say that it's not in your best interests to continue seeking shelter and warmth under my car hood. And if you do so, your days may well be numbered (yes, that IS A THREAT). Because today, when I was writing that $700 check to the car dealer for the repairs made to my engine for rat damage, let me tell you that I was feeling rather ungenerous at that moment. Especially when I realized that that much dough could've bought you and your posse a pretty nice trip to some warm Caribbean island, where you could be sipping pina coladas and working on your tan lines, watching the rat babes in their trendy brazilian-cut bikinis and whistling at a lot of nice tail. But instead you were frolicking around under my hood, sucking oil out of frayed hoses, sharpening your incisors on electrical cords of various sizes--including those that allow the engine to revv up and get all warm and cozy to begin with. And can I just tell you that imbibing petroleum products is NOT GOOD FOR YOUR HEALTH! You could get cancer that way, you know.

And I'll have you know that this wasn't just any car that you were tampering with, but is a vintage model station wagon, the likes of which are impossible to find on resale lots. So DO NOT MESS WITH THE CAR or you might be finding yourself with a new set of cement shoes. Capice?
Sincerely,
pilgrimgirl