April 1 was meant to be a normal day in the office. Wake up, write out some drafts, edit some things, the usual work. But the hapless author of this article found out how wrong that was when I came in and found a big rat sitting in the Free Press office.
When I say big rat, I’m afraid you’ll think of a normal rat that’s just kind of fat. No, this is a BIG rat. It’s at least as big as an opossum, or a decently sized child, but that doesn’t really matter because the important thing is that it’s big enough to touch my knees with its nasty little rat paws.
I’m currently standing on top of a desk chair typing this article with the handle of a broom while the rat circles around me. It’s tried to climb up with me, but the height of the chair and my high-pitched screams have stopped it each time. I’m not sure how much longer before it figures out how to get up here. My throat is getting sore from all the screaming.
How did this even happen? I just wanted to come in and polish some articles, and now I’m desperately writing this article for the paper in the hope that when it gets published someone will find out about my plight and come save me. The rat keeps licking its terrible yellow teeth and looking at the computer with its beady little eyes of sin. I’m terrified that it knows what I’m trying to do and it’s going to chew through the power cable just before I can send it to the printers.
If you’re reading this, please come to the Free Press office and help me! Bring a big stick or a taser or an expendable friend with you, the rat is pantomiming eating my face. I’m sorry that you have to read this instead of a normal article, but I really don’t want to be touched by this nasty little rodent fellow. Please help me!
