I was giving birth in a clawfoot tub that was perched on the roof of my mom's old house. It was the middle of the night, the sky was pink and gummy and hot, like dog's mouth.
I was pushing and pushing. It hurt.
The baby came out.
It was a rat, fully-grown and covered in birthing slime. Its teeth were long and golden.
The rat baby clawed its way up my belly and started to nurse. It was biting me, knawing at my nipples and making squeaking and clicking rat noises. There was blood and milk everywhere.
We got comfortable eventually. I looked down at my rat baby and began to fall in love.
But then came all the other rats.
There were thousands, and they all jumped into the tub, and they all wanted to nurse and they were all fighting each other. And my rat, it got lost in the fray.
Once the rats were gone, I climbed out of the tub and slid down the chimney. I went to the kitchen and ate some nuts. Santa sat down beside me and we talked about the economy.
I didn't tell him about the rat baby, I figured he must have known.
Santa just knows, know what I mean?
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