The Ratville Rats in Appropriate Measures

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
America's favorite family of rats are at it again! In this one, Papa Rat vows to become a better father by teaching his son a lesson. But the joke will be on him. So, come on and join in with The Ratville Rats as they live and breathe American family values.

Submitted: April 21, 2015

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Submitted: April 21, 2015



“Don’t just lay there! Say something in your own defense!” yelled Papa Rat.

From a curlicued ball of claw and fur, Brother Rat whimpered. Then, he sobbed fitfully into his elbow something about feelings.

Papa Rat hated feelings. One thought went through his mind while yellow fangs glimmered in the space between his fuzzy lips—and that thought was. . . This is my son? The simpering, crying, fuzzy ball of emotion quivering egregiously before him.

“Fuck it!” Papa finally said. “I’ll deal with you tomorrow. Tonight, I’m going to go diddle your mother! The way real men do.”

And that’s just what Papa did. He went and diddled his wife, the way real men do.

After he’d finished, Mama said, “Now, you listen to me, Papa Rat. You come to bed right now. If you don’t watch your temper your hemorrhoid will flare up, and I don’t want to make a trip to the hospital tonight.”

“I guess you’re right,” Papa moaned. “No need igniting my hemorrhoid.” Papa plopped down on the bed. “But, I mean, the depravity of it,. I’m an absolute failure as a father after what he did.”

“There are ways to fix that,” Mama said.

Papa rolled up against Mama’s soft warm belly and began twisting a few hot pink nipples in his claws.

“I guess you’re right,” Papa said. “And tomorrow I plan to.”

* * *

The next morning, Papa Rat picked up a twelve-inch length of black pipe from Ratty-Tat’s Hardware. He picked up some castor oil and cayenne pepper and a dozen brown eggs from Ratville Grocery. He picked up a long, thick, wide leather strap from U Sheer Me Beauty Supply by Ratville Mall. He took all this back behind Ratville High School. Then he hunkered down into a pile of plastic trash bags stretched to their tensile limits with garbage. At the edge of the dumpster, Papa Rat waited for his son to show up.

Ratville’s finest boys in blue had picked up Brother Rat on one count of sodomy and a count of prostitution behind Ratville High School, and further investigation yielded the existence of a sex ring run behind Ratville High School by his very own son, Brother Rat. When Papa had collected his delinquent from Ratville Jail, he’d demanded an explanation why. . . Why had Brother been turning tricks after school. “Because you didn’t give me my allowance last week,” was all Brother had said.

Well, that wasn’t going to happen again, Papa Rat promised himself!

As soon as dusk darkened the sky, Brother Rat came skipping with several friends into the back parking lot. They were all there—The Ratville Party Animals, led by his son. Papa watched them cling to each other and stroke each others’ private parts like a bunch of filthy humans. The very site produced a nauseous feeling in Papa’s belly. He upchucked ten pounds of cheese into his own lap. Yellow bile poured past his hypodermic incisors onto his genitalia, making a mess of everything between his legs.

Papa Rat growled.

Meanwhile, out in the lot, Brother Rat’s friend Selma pulled up her tank top allowing her freshly developed hot pink nipples to harden in the wind. When Papa saw this, his spine tingled. Papa Rat concluded his son was an evil devil worshiper. Evil!

The adolescent rats formed a hairy throng in the middle of the parking lot where they touched each others’ erogenous zones sinfully. . .

And Papa watched.

Brother stood in the middle of the hairy group getting his nuts licked. . .

And Papa Rat felt his asshole tighten. Drew Ratttail, captain of the football team, stuck his tongue in brother’s mouth. . .

And Papa Rat squirmed.

But at least, Papa Rat begrudged, at least his son was kissing a football player.

Carson Rattly clamped a sucking motion down on Drew’s butthole. Brother let a high irrational howl of jubilation the instant his own butthole got plugged shut with Selma’s fist. . .

And Papa, he almost suffocated. The hemorrhoids around his buttocks flared hot and white.

In one massive angry stroke of the leg, Papa kicked open the dumpster hatch and emerged brandishing the black pipe he’d bought earlier.

See, Papa had a great plan. With all the tools he’d purchased earlier, he planned to intimidate the youngsters into a higher sense of moral turpitude. Then the youths would associate this sexual sickness that had permeated them with the wretched and depraved horrors Papa was about to inflict upon them, and they’d never ever think of sex again. Psychology 101.

Papa Rat charged the young libertines with righteous fortitude swinging between his thighs.

“Oh, my gawd, it’s your dad!” Drew Longtttail muffed, a mouth full of rat wiener stifling his cries.

“My dad’s crazy!” Brother yelled. “He wouldn’t give me my allowance last week! Now, he’s going to kill us!”

The young hedonists went running to the far corners of the lot in different directions.

Papa charged like a bull. He stumbled forward on leaden legs. Not even the hemorrhoids could slow him down.

Drew Ratttail circled him in a burst of football player speed.

“Why aren’t you all at home doing your homework?” Papa screamed, while he brandished his black pipe ominously. “Is it so bad for you all to take your futures seriously? What’s wrong with studying, getting good grades, opting in, and joining the young republicans?”

But as Papa screamed and chased, he could not come close to catching one of the little hedonist fuckers.

As Papa’s energy level waned, zapped by years of over-indulgence in television and snack foods, Carson snuck up behind him with a two-by-four and brought said implement down over the top of Papa’s exceptionally hard head. Papa turned toward his assailant, intending to bash the youngster, but instead his claws flexed out for a triple unicorn burger with cheese. Then he fell hard to the asphalt lot, dizzy and stunned.

Brother, Drew, and Carson kicked his limp body.

Brother then snatched the metal pipe from Papa’s claws. “This is for all the freaks in Ratville!” he yelled as he jammed the black pipe a good ten inches up his father’s asshole.

As Papa took the pipe up his ass like a champ, he could think only one thing—this is my son!

Ironically, Mama Rat had to bail Papa out of jail later that evening. He’d been picked up behind Ratville High School on one count of sodomy with an inanimate object.

Papa Rat felt humiliated. Newspaper headlines would say Papa had been cavorting with a teenage sex ring, and he’d probably lose his job. How would he pay his bills? How would he feed himself?

“It will all work out,” Mama told him on the ride home.

“Easy for you to say,” he barked. “You don’t have a pipe sticking out of your rectum.”

“Maybe you should talk it out with Brother, instead of beat him?” Mama suggested.

“The only thing I’m doing is make an appointment with Dr. Hibberd.” Papa sagely offered a moment of silence, then added, “I’m sure this will seriously effect my hemorrhoids.”

Mama took the car steadily down the road. Papa looked at the sun setting over the hills of Ratville. The orange light cast itself over everything. For a moment, Papa even thought the scenery looked beautiful.

No one knows what happened after that.

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