Once upon a Christmas evening, as the tinsel and baubles caught the flickering light from the log fire, the humans dozed in their armchair, festively bloated. All except for one little girl who was playing with her new toys.
From his secret hiding place behind the skirting board, the rat quietly began to cross towards the Christmas stocking lying behind the girl.
Once there he could chew through the toe of the stocking, searching for the glorious orange fruit he could smell buried there. This rat was hungry. His self-enforced Ramadan over the past seven days had been because of the humans’ seasonally cryptic rituals.
Suddenly his feet were caught in a glue like mess. Fairly or unfairly she had caught him. He tried playing possum. But he wasn’t playing when the girl brought the fireside poker down in a flash on his head as she hummed “Merry Christmas Everyone!”