"Brian Plante - Papa Rat" - читать интересную книгу автора (Plante Brian)

Dennis slid yesterday's newspaper under the cage to catch the droppings, and put some water in the
bottle fixed to the side. He knew rats would eat just about anything, so he filled the little metal dish inside
the cage with some Rice Krispies, using a piece of rolled up paper as a funnel to deposit the cereal
through the bars.
After a while, Corva came back into the room. Her eyes were wet and red.

"Dennis, we can't go on like this."

"Don't worry Honey, it's only for a few weeks. If the rat doesn't get sick..."

"No, no, no. Not the rat. It's everything. Your job, my job, this crummy little apartment. Not being able
to afford a doctor when we need one."

Dennis looked at her with plaintive eyes. "We've been over this before."

"But nothing changes, Dennis. What kind of future do we have? Don't you want to do more, be more,
than just a...a rat catcher?"

Dennis was stung by the words. "Everybody can't be a rocket scientist, Corva. Jeez, you're sharing that
receptionist job of yours with two other women, so don't go pointing any fingers at me. I'm just doing the
best I can, okay?"

"It's not the best. There's lots of people doing better. When we got married, I had no idea it would be
like this."



Dennis hated when she did this to him. He had tried, really tried, to build up the exterminating business
and make a decent living, but money was just too scarce. There were better ways to make money in
New York, but whatever the magic formula was, Dennis had not hit upon it yet.

"Honey, it's like this all over the city. Lots of jobs are moving down south and offshore. It's real slim
pickings out there. Besides, being an exterminator isn't such a bad job these days since the rats started
gettin' smart. They don't fall for poison or traps like they used to. It's almost a high-tech thing now, and
it's a little easier to make a buck than in the old days when all I did was spray for cockroaches."

Corva shuddered and a tear rolled down her cheek. "Come on, Dennis, we can't even take care of our
own son!"

Dennis's face flushed red with embarrassment. She wasn't playing fair, he thought. Even people with
better jobs couldn't afford to take care of kids like Kevin full-time.

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me," Dennis said, disgusted with himself. "I'm going over to the nursing home
to see him in a few minutes. Do you want to come?"

"No, I went earlier today. The nights are yours."

***