Ricky explains why he hasn’t done a podcast in 2 months and why he has been spitting in Intern Dave’s Diet Cherry Rat Cola. He also complains about Valentine’s Day… from last year.
Podcast Script (not including ad-libs):
Hey-o, Ricky here… um… please excuse me from being late with the podcast, I… um… well, I kinda been busy and forgot.
Y’know, there was Christmas and all that, with Baby dragging me to the mall when I wasn’t working at the studio and Mama Rat nagging me to do chores and put up Christmas lights, and then I had to babysit my nieces and nephew a bunch when my sister Becky had Christmas parties and public appearances they have to do for KRAT Channel 7 News and Mama Rat had her bingo dates with Ambrose and… I mean, I just forgot.
It happens.
And then there was New Year’s and I had a hangover that was, like, a whole week long, and then Mama had New Year’s chores that needed doing and Big Mike wanted us to do some renovating at the studio because he realized if he rented a big ol’ storage unit over at the Pack Rat’s U-Store It for all the gear he had up in the storage loft in the back above the live room, then he could make the loft into a lounge for the main studio and make the old lounge into a new mix room and charge twice as much cause he could have two sessions going on at a time, which meant me and Intern Dave had to do a lot of moving gear, junking junk, installing new cheap laminate flooring and painting the walls, installing soundproofing… you get the picture.
I didn’t help much with the actual wiring and installation of the new SSL mixing board and the gear, ‘cause I don’t know much about the tech stuff, but I did have to help carry in the crates and man was my back sore for like 3 weeks.
Did I say it was a new SSL? Well, I meant new to us here at Rat Trap Studios. It’s actually an old 96 channel G-Series from the 1980s that Big Mike bought off some dude in Vancouver. Said it was still in good working condition and to the best of the seller’s knowledge, Tommy Lee from Motley Crue only banged three hookers on it but it was recommended we have it thoroughly disinfected anyway just to be sure… but I don’t know nothin’ bought disinfecting so it fell to Intern Dave to put on the haz-mat suit and wipe it all down with the KleenRat bleach.
And he thought it wasn’t quite working well enough because there were still some crusty bits in the fader slots, so Intern Dave told me to fetch him the ammonia from the janitor closet and I did that and man… we sure had one hell of a trip off the fumes.
I dunno how long I was passed out for, but I guess Jeff came in after his yoga class and yelled at Intern Dave and opened all the windows and doors and dragged me and Intern Dave out to the parking lot for fresh air and that one neighbor who always calls the cops called the cops only this time it wasn’t ‘cause Big Mike and his missus was fighting in the parking lot, it was ‘cause the neighbor said we were making mustard gas and trying to poison the entire neighborhood.
I mean, sure, Jeff usually has vegan chili for lunch but I didn’t think the resulting gas was that bad, not any worse than any other day, anyway… and there certainly wasn’t any mustard in it.
But the cops called the paramedics and they came and checked us out and then the KRAT Channel 7 News team showed up and they wanted to interview me after the paramedics were done with me and I told ‘em what happened and the reporter asked me if I was retarded because “don’t you know you’re not supposed to mix bleach and ammonia?” and I said, “No, and anyway, Intern Dave said to get the ammonia, so I did what I was told.”
Sigh… well, Mama Rat wasn’t nearly as proud of me for being on the news this time as last time when I helped supervise Mrs. Rattsen delivering my girlfriend Baby’s sister’s new baby on the side of the highway on-ramp last Ratland Day long weekend. But at least Mama didn’t yell at me too bad ‘cause I was still kinda woozy from the mustard gas exposure and she figured it was all Intern Dave’s fault ‘cause he’s an asshole. And he is.
Anyway, Big Mike’s in trouble with the WorkRat Compensation Board over the whole thing but I just want it to be clear: I did not snitch on Big Mike to nobody. That was the police and the KRAT Channel 7 News who did that and I didn’t even know about it til a week later. And I told the WorkRat Comp dude who came by the studio: Big Mike wasn’t even there when it happened, it was a Wednesday morning and he goes and bangs his brunette side piece on Wednesdays.
So, you can’t really blame Big Mike ‘cause he had nothing to do with it. You have to blame Intern Dave, and I dunno if anything’s gonna happen to Intern Dave other than from now on I’m gonna spit in his sodas when I’m bringing in the lunch and dinner orders. And I figure that’s fair enough… plus, Intern Dave’s the only one who drinks Diet Cherry Rat Cola, so there’s no chance of me accidentally switching up the drinks and spitting in anyone else’s soda.
Speaking of fetching lunch and dinner orders, even though we now have twice as many clients and food orders and munchies runs, Big Mike is a cheap bastard and he ain’t hiring no extra runner for the new mix room, so I’m even busier than usual and having to juggle twice as many trips.
But on the upside, if there was a second runner, well… logically, that second runner wouldn’t spit in Intern Dave’s Diet Cherry Rat Cola, so I guess it’s worth it for me to be so damned busy in order to have that opportunity for revenge.
Anyway, so I’ve been busy for the last couple months and there ain’t been no podcasts accordingly. I guess the biggest happening lately—other than the mustard gas thing that was Intern Dave’s fault—was that we got the first big dump of snow this winter here in Ratsville. Sometimes we get a big dump in early December, but this time it was just all nasty with rain and then January was dry and cold, but we always get a giant fluffy white turd of snow in February that covers all of Ratland—and, I guess, probably all of Mouseland, too, but who cares about them?—and this year was no exception. All weekend long we was waiting for it but then it finally came on Sunday night and did not stop ’til Tuesday morning.
We got about a foot in total and of course I had to do a whole lotta shovelling: first at Mama Rat’s house, then Mama Rat told me to go over to Gamma Rat’s house and do her driveway, too, but fortunately Uncle Roy had stopped by to do the same, so I really only did half of the driveway while I was talking and toking with Uncle Roy. Then Baby called me to come over to her place because her daddy Mr. Rattsen was away at a business conference in Nevada and none of the Rattsen girls nor their mama wanted to go outside in the snow, so I shovelled the Rattsens’ driveway and front path. And that was all before 9:45 am so I had to race over to the studio to start work by 10am even though none of the roads had been plowed or salted yet, and when I got there I had to shovel the whole parking lot and the sidewalk.
Naturally, I just piled the snow up high in Intern Dave’s parking stall because fuck him, he’s an asshole and because I’m still mad about the mustard gas… of course, Intern Dave’s a pussy and stayed home because he don’t know how to drive in the snow. Well, that didn’t stop anyone else in Ratsville from being out on the road and spinning every which way, getting in my way as I slipped and slided and zipped all over town fetching booze, munchies, and food for our two client sessions that day.
And I didn’t see a damned sign of any snow plow or salt truck until 1:23 in the pm, and even then I wouldn’t say the roads was properly cleared until 4pm.
So, that was its own shitshow, but the real shitshow is next week, when we can expect a full two feet of snow the day before and on Valentine’s Day.
Ugh. Gross. And not just the snow, I mean Valentine’s Day itself.
I hate it, man. I mean, we all do, and by “we” I mean me and every other dude I know.
And we might get snowed in this year, but even that wouldn’t be the worst Valentine’s, cause that was last year. Lemme tell ya about it.
Baby, of course, absolutely loves Valentine’s, and so I gotta pretend like I don’t hate it, cause I know what’s good for me. And so I asked her a few days in advance where she wanted me to take her for Valentine’s.
“Uh… I have plans, Ricky.”
“WHAT?!?”
I could feel the rage bursting up like lava. Sure, the weird lil’ dude she was with at last Christmas turned out to be her nerdy half-mouse cousin Myles, but no chick makes plans with her cousin for Valentine’s.
“Who is he?”
“Aw, you’re so cute when you’re jealous, Ricky.”
“WHO… IS… HE…?!? Who are you steppin’ out on me with on Valentine’s?”
“I’m not steppin’ out, Ricky. I just have plans.”
“Baby, I know your ol’ man don’t like me, but damn it, I’m good to you and I’ve been true and now you two-time me on Valentine’s? What the Hell, man?”
“I’m not two-timing you!”
“You said you have plans for Valentine’s!”
“Yeah, but—”
“Who are you making plans with?”
“Jesus, Ricky…”
“I need to know so I can kick his ass!”
“No, Ricky, it’s—”
“Tell me!”
“I did!”
“No, you didn’t!”
“Yes, I did, Ricky! I have to go to church, Ricky, it’s Ash Wednesday!”
“Well, stop by confession while you’re there and tell me who this dude is you’re going out with on Valentine’s!”
Baby just shook her head and mumbled to herself, something about how her stupid boyfriend never listens to her so I pointed out to her that’s why she should pick me instead, ‘cause I do listen.
“I was talking about you, Ricky!”
“You listen to me, Baby: we’ve been together since eighth grade algebra and I ain’t never ditched you on Valentine’s Day, and I demand you return the favor. We’re going out on Valentine’s and that’s final!”
Baby sighed. “Oh, alright, Ricky. Pick me up from cosmetology school at 4 o’clock.”
“You’re damn right I will.”
So that was settled, other than Baby still wouldn’t tell me where she wanted to go for dinner on Valentine’s, even though I pointed out that if we were to go anywhere fancy I was gonna need a reservation and if I couldn’t make one ‘cause she wouldn’t tell me then we were probably gonna have to just go to McRat Burger or Ratzerria Pizza.
She rolled her eyes. “We’ll sort it out on Wednesday.”
Well, Wednesday afternoon came and I ditched out of the studio at 3, which would normally get me yelled at, except Big Mike had taken Mrs. Mike to Bermuda for the week and the other engineers were all taking their wives and girlfriends out… except for Jeff, who’s single, but Jeff couldn’t wait to get the studio to himself for the evening to work on his band’s demo in peace.
It’s not like we were gonna get much done that day anyway, and me and Jeff had spent the afternoon gossiping, mostly about who Baby’s other dude might be.
“Now, Ricky… you need to chill out and learn to trust more.”
“I was very trusting… ’til she was gonna go out with some other dude for Valentine’s!”
“You’re making assumptions. All she said was she had other plans. Maybe her parents wanted her to go somewhere with them.”
Grr… in other words, Jeff wasn’t listening at all. Kinda usual for him, to be honest.
I growled and got ready to go fetch Baby, swapping my usual ripped jeans and leather jacket for black leather pants, a black t-shirt, and a black velvet sport coat that I found in a thrift store somewhere. Since this was a formal occasion, I also added a fat steel chain collar and padlock and made sure my hair was nice and spiky. Sid Vicious would be proud.
Next I stopped by to fetch the flowers I’d ordered and the candy box and made sure I had the earrings I’d bought for Baby (and a couple rubbers in my wallet, just in case!) and went to pick her up.
For some reason, Baby was wearing a frumpy dress with an ankle length skirt and a high-necked blouse instead of her usual short and skimpy red dress.
“Hey Baby, you guys learning about Amish make-up today?”
“I told you, Ricky: it’s Ash Wednesday.”
“The Amish use ashes for make-up?”
Baby scowled and rolled her eyes. She’s usually not like this normally… wait a minute… I started counting days… crap… well, one thing always works: “I brought you some candy, Baby.”
“I can’t eat that, I’m fasting!”
“Naw, Baby, you ain’t fat. That dress just has too much fabric is all.”
Baby growled. And she didn’t open the candy box. Onto Plan B. “Where you wanna go eat, Baby?”
No answer.
“You want pizza? Or cheeseburgers?”
“I told you: I’m fasting.”
“And I told you: you ain’t gotta ‘cause you ain’t fat. Now where we going for grub?”
Baby crossed her arms. “I told Myles we’d pick him up after work.”
Ugh. Great. Last thing I needed was a chaperone… but since Baby was in a nasty mood anyway, whatever. “OK, Baby. Where we going?”
So we headed across town to Myles’ new office and waited in the lobby for him to finish up with his last client and I tried to make small talk about Amish make-up or whatever nonsense Baby’s learning at cosmetology school these days. Finally, the client—some bimbo chick who looks like she does OnlyRats—left and Myles emerged from his office, stuffing his maw with a fistful of chocolate covered almonds.
“Myles! We’re supposed to be fasting!”
“Meh, I quit that whole New Year’s diet thing two weeks ago, Barbra.”
“It’s not a diet thing, Myles! It’s for church! We’re supposed to fast on Ash Wednesday!”
“Pfft… following church law is for women. Tell her, Ricky.”
“Uh…”
So Baby got mad at Myles and Myles just chuckled and I kept my damn mouth shut ‘cause I had no idea what they’re talking about and also I know what’s good for me so I don’t cross Baby when she’s mad about things I don’t know nothin’ about and we all packed into my car and headed to the big cathedral downtown as per Baby’s direction.
And just inside the doors we ran into Baby’s parents and Myles’ mom Belinda. Baby pulled a lace scarf out of her giant purse and spent a bunch of time arranging it over her hair and ears while snitching on Myles about the candy to Belinda, who tried to scold him, but Myles just repeated the same “following church law is for women” line. This time he asked Mr. Rattsen for back-up, but Mr. Rattsen I guess also knows what’s good for him and squirmed out of the argument.
And I kept my mouth shut and pretended to be very interested in the notices on the bulletin board. As the women kept nagging Myles about whatever it was they were pissed off about, Mr. Rattsen came over to the bulletin board as well.
“Barbra’s bullying you into taking the faith seriously, son?”
“Huh? Oh, I dunno nothin’ ‘bout church except when my mama drags me at Christmas.”
“Mmm.”
“This Mexico thing looks cool though.”
“Mmm.”
“They don’t seem to mention anything about tequila or tacos, though.”
“No, Karen dragged me along on that one a couple years ago. It’s all old churches.”
“Not even a side trip to Tijuana?”
“No. You’ll have to book that yourself.”
“Meh… that’s a lot of money to not even go party in Tijuana.”
Well, by then either Baby was satisfied with her lace scarf or the women had given up on trying to reform Myles or I dunno, but Mrs. Rattsen announced it was time to go find our seats so I followed them in.
Unfortunately, our seats turned out to be front row, I guess so Baby and Belinda and Mrs. Rattsen could impress the bishop or whatever. I sat between Baby and Myles to keep the peace, though Belinda sat on the other side of Myles so he got no peace when he kept scrolling on his phone throughout the service.
I had no idea what was going on, really, other than I vaguely remembered the bit where you go up and get your forehead smudged from previous years when Mama Rat’s family church New Year’s resolution made it this far into the year. And I did my best to copy what Mr. and Mrs. Rattsen were doing so it wouldn’t be so obvious to Baby that I had no idea.
Y’know, I still wanted to prove I was a better boyfriend than whatever dude she was initially planning to spend Valentine’s with.
Of course, I was somewhat distracted by the constant stream of booty and booby pics on Myles’ Facerat DMs. Not that I was looking, I swear, but… I mean… it was right there, especially since he’d angled the phone towards me so as to make it harder for his mom to see… but, lest Baby catch me looking, I did my utmost to look up at the stained glass windows instead.
Except when it was clear Baby was watching the bishop, then I figured it was safe to side-eye Myles’ phone and peek.
“Myles! Put that damned phone away!” Belinda hissed.
“Can’t, Ma. Clients.”
Clients, my ass! Out of the corner of my eye it would seem Myles was stringing along at least 3 mouse chicks and scheduling rendezvous with all of them for later tonight, one right after the other.
Anyway, the bishop droned on and on, and it was dark out so the stained glass wasn’t so distracting now, but finally the service was over and the Rattsens chatted with various friends of theirs, including one little old lady who pinched my cheeks and told Baby, “oh, I had a punk rocker boyfriend when I was your age.”
Mrs. Rattsen asked, “But you didn’t marry him, did you?”
“Well, no, but that’s only because he moved to New York City to play in some band and my mother wouldn’t let me go with him.”
Mrs. Rattsen seemed relieved at that information. I was tempted to point out that I don’t play in a band and have no intention of moving to New York, but before I could open my mouth, Belinda resumed nagging Myles, who cut her off by saying he had important “client business” to attend to back in Mouseton and could he get a ride back to the office to fetch his car.
So I took that as a cue for me and Baby to make our escape with Myles, but sadly Baby wasn’t in any mood to engage in any “client business” with me after dropping Myles off.
And I never did get a straight answer about who the Hell she’d been planning to spend Valentine’s with instead of me, just the same old eye roll and “Jesus, Ricky…”
Links
Follow Ricky on Facebook: Ricky B. the Rock n Roll Rat Facebook page
And on Instagram: Ricky B. Rat on Instagram
And on Twitter/X: Ricky B. Rat on Twitter
But also on YouTube: Ricky B. Rat on YouTube
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