Wanna See a Dead Rat?

Wanna See a Dead Rat? is a collection of autobiographical pieces and short plays by Paul Pasulka, directed by Madison Smith and produced by Death and Pretzels Theatre Company.

Our thanks to Rhinofest for hosting this show. Check out the other magnificent productions at Rhinofest.com.

Wanna See a Dead Rat? is also a five-minute autobiographical story:

WANNA SEE A DEAD RAT?

“Wanna see a dead rat?”

Hey, kid, wanna see a dead rat?” 

I really didn’t. Under other circumstances, maybe. I was four or five years old. I might’ve seen one before – probably had. Humboldt Park Chicago. Mid nineteen – fifties. Garbage kept in fifty gallon drums with loose fitting lids, if lidded at all. Often spilling over. A rats’ paradise, no doubt. 

A paradise for flies, too. Once a week, after the cans were emptied, you could see the maggots gleefully wriggling around the filth-encrusted bottom, in anticipation of new delicacies. 

“Are we are living in the land of milk and honey or what?! Oo - oo- oo! And you know what else? Preacher says if we’re good little maggots, we get wings in our next life! Hallelujah!” 

Then my father would slosh in some kerosene and toss in a lit match. Yep. Milk and honey. And kerosene and fire. Pretty sure that if maggots have a bible, my father, the Iron Man, figures prominently in it. 

But, though I might like to avoid it, there is a dead rat waiting for me. And the question: did I want to see it? Even if I had seen one before, I’m sure I would’ve been curious – frightened and repulsed by both death and the rat – but curious. 

One reason for not wanting to see this particular rat – I had just gotten a dime – maybe it was a nickel – from the tooth fairy, and was on my way to Jake’s, as I had just informed my wanna-be dead rat docent.  It was my first solo voyage from home port.

Jake’s was a mom and pop grocery store at the end of the alley. Jake and his wife, Fanny, were a little Jewish couple, Biblical in age, who owned a store that was no bigger than a circus clown’s car, and was stuffed just as full of wonderful surprises - Fruits? Vegetables..? Candy. Toys. 

Another reason I didn’t want to see this rat was that my self-appointed guide was too insistent. He was maybe eight or nine years old. Worldly, glib, confident, sporting a crew-cut that I instinctively recognized as the mark of the amoral adventurer. He was, I knew, a pirate. And he had trained his guns on me.

“No, really, c’mon. It’s just over there.” He put his arm around my neck and pointed to the gangway of the yellow apartment building.

Then broadside and broadside and at it we went

For fully two hours or - 

Ah, No. I don’t really remember what happened next – maybe I complied without further physical encouragement, too frightened to resist. Maybe he ‘escorted’ me there. But indeed, there it was – a dead rat. And I did have a very good look at it, lying on the ground, staring at it face to face (one of us was crying) while my – money sailed away.

And I really don’t remember what happened after that. I’m sure I limped back to home port and stifled my tears enough to tell my parents.  And I’m sure I got a lecture, spoken or through pitying looks, from my billy-goats-gruff brothers. “You let some kid take your money?!” That wouldn’t happen to them, of that I was certain. 

I’m sure one of them served as escort to Jake’s where I spent my replenished - coin on bullseyes or licorice whips or a sucker. I’m also sure that whatever I bought didn’t taste as sweet as I had imagined it would, seasoned as it was with salt tears. 

But I did survive, and I came away from that experience with something more than a handful of penny candy… When you sail forth to discover life’s treasures, unexpected adventures, and danger, also await. It just might be helpful to learn the rules of navigation.

So, now I gotta ask you; “Wanna see a dead rat?” Yeah? Join me on the next voyage. We’ll visit the Iron Man. Son of a coal miner, on the road looking for work when he was 13. I’ll just bet he knows something about navigating life.