text: This is part one of a series I've been working on for a while. Currently, I have six parts up (plus 4 parts of an alternate horror version). Warning Profanity. &#x200B; The world is going to end soon. &#x200B; Or that's the conclusion one would reach from surfing the internet. Mayan calendars predicted the end, they were wrong. Homophones said gays would be the fall of modern society. But they got the right to marry, and I got a raise two months after. The two incidents were most likely coincidental. Still though, one day someone is bound to say the world is going to end and the next day it'll be gone. Poof, up in smoke. No more dogs or cats, no more Ben and Jerry’s and existential crisis. No more keeping up with the Kardashians because spoiler alert for those not keeping up, they’d be gone too. &#x200B; I digress. While someday the world may be over, that day wasn’t today. Today was for all intents and purposes, normal. Work was work. Hopefully, sitting in the car and contemplating life, afraid to walk into the office knowing damn well it drains every ounce of happiness from me isn’t a pastime that only I partake in. Because I did that today, as I do most days. &#x200B; Then, Janet, she’s the receptionist, was in front of me somehow It dawned on me that I entered a sort of hypnotic state and walked into the office without realizing. She was chewing gum, smacking her lips eagerly, her eyes burrowed into me. &#x200B; **Janet**: Well? &#x200B; She intimidates me, more than other people do. I’m never prepared to talk to her. Not that it matters. &#x200B; **Me**: The uh... calls? Today’s calls... &#x200B; **Janet**: Um-hmmm... Here. &#x200B; She handed me a folder. Same as any other day. Same as the one I had held in my right hand. &#x200B; **Me**: This is... yeah, you know. &#x200B; We trade folders. She’ll file my reports, and I’ll go track down pests. We’ll do the same routine tomorrow. &#x200B; I turned around and pushed back out the front door. I walked not to my aging, beige Toyota, but to the aging, white company van. The side of the van says "Ron's Pest Control" in black text with no logo or even a phone number. Shouldn’t it have both, maybe even a slogan? One that rhymed, like “We fight pests better than the rest!” Also, I don't know who Ron is. A John hired me, Mike is another exterminator, Mary does something in the office maybe accounting, and of course, there's Janet, no Ron though. &#x200B; ▪ ▪ ▪ &#x200B; A family was sitting outside their home with tents and a grill set up. The camping gear screamed, “help my house has been overrun with rats!” so I knew I was in the right place. The family was squinting at the van, it is never what people expect. I got out and circled the van, they now squinted at me. I am never what people expect. &#x200B; **Me**: Is this 215 Hanger drive? &#x200B; **Man**\-on-lawn: Yes sir. &#x200B; **Me**: Rat infestation, right? &#x200B; **Man**: Yes, are you the exterminator? &#x200B; He glanced once more at the van as if it would answer him, well I suppose it did. I nodded. &#x200B; **Man**: Well go on and get your equipment and let yourself inside. &#x200B; **Me**: That won’t be necessary, I’ll go in and evaluate before I bring anything in. &#x200B; Walking into the front door of the house, the family’s eyes were on me the whole time. That is until the door shut shielding me from their quizzical looks. The living room was modest. Only one photo of the family hung above a couch that has seen its fair share of movies from the outdated wide flat screen parallel to it. No rats though. Then my nostrils were attacked by the foulest stench of what had to be body odor and rotten food. There was a rat: somewhere. &#x200B; On my left appeared to be the kitchen so I started walking towards it. The stench seemed to be getting worse so either I was getting closer or my body was refusing to get used to it. I stepped through the doorway, my right foot on linoleum, my left still on the living-room carpet. I turned my head to the left and there it was. It was red, not that color matters. Its claws were overgrown by a few inches and wrapped around a beer bottle that it most likely helped itself to. Its tail fell off the chair and spooled into a coiled mess on the floor. Its bright yellow eyes glanced over to me, they were puffy, perhaps it was rabid. &#x200B; **It**: Hey &#x200B; I moved myself into the kitchen and took a seat across from the rat. &#x200B; **Me**: Hey. &#x200B; The rat didn’t follow up with anything, just took a long swig of the beer. &#x200B; **Me**: So, what uh, what’s your name? &#x200B; **It**: Ron. &#x200B; This Ron and the Ron I supposedly work for are probably unrelated. &#x200B; **Me**: Okay, ah, Ron? You can’t be here okay? &#x200B; If he doesn’t give up easily I’ll have to go back out to the truck and get the Weaponized Overcharged Rely Device or W.O.R.D for short. &#x200B; Ron started sobbing. &#x200B; **Ron**: Man, she’s planning on leaving me and taking the kids. I just needed to get out and collect myself, Ya know? But no bar would serve me. &#x200B; **Me**: Because you’re a rat? &#x200B; **Ron**: What? No, because I smell so bad. What you gonna do to me? &#x200B; **Me**: Well, I’d taze you and call for back up. They would probably tranquilize you and lock you up. &#x200B; Ron threw his hands. &#x200B; **Ron**: Whoa man, no need to taze me, I’ll go. Rather deal with Samantha then spend time in jail again. &#x200B; Must be one of Mike’s regulars. He got up and walked at the back door, which shut on his tail. It didn’t seem to faze him. I went out the front door. &#x200B; **Man**: What’s wrong? Need your equipment? Told you to get it. &#x200B; **Me**: No, he left, no need to get anything. &#x200B; ▪ ▪ ▪ &#x200B; I went over paperwork with the home owners. They tried to tip me, very generously at that. I had to decline. It’s against policy. I watched for a bit as the family started taking down the tents to begin reclaiming their home. Then I left, off to the next house. &#x200B; Oh, I should have mentioned it up top, Ron’s Pest Control isn’t your typical extermination specialist; our hours are 24/7. Well that, and we are one of the only few exterminators trained to deal with the weird and supernatural. And a giant 6-foot rat breaking and entering to help himself to booze isn’t an out of the ordinary call. &#x200B; If you liked what you read, here's .