By Prospero Dae
Eloise Whitecoat was to be audited by a fiendish, black-hearted taxman. Naturally she was going to try to appear somewhat penniless. But she was in a lamentable fix. That’s when talking to Sprague Dawley came to mind.
“Sprague, darling,” she said. “Can you take these oil paintings off my hands for a time?”
She trusted him implicitly. (Regrettably the short amount of time we have to spend together does not allow me to elaborate on the salacious details of that acquaintance.)
The audit was over. She was in the clear. Then she learned that Sprague had left the country. The rat.
Yes, the devil is in those details, probably, but the beauty of very short fiction is that one needn’t bother with nuance and ambiguity. This is a nice black and white story. Very restful.
Nothing like the éclat of going (parenthetically) on a tantalizingly venerean excursion. Also, nothing black and white about laboratory rats–I’d say white (Whitecoat) predominantly. And as for restful, try spending some time in a cardboard box with ‘Sympathy for the Devil’ blaring at you–a controlled experiment designed to prove beyond a reasonable doubt the lethal effects of rock music.
Do we really need yet another pseudo-scientific experiment to prove the lethal effects of rock music?…. if not lethal, rock music effectuates deafness, dumbness, and a zombie-like state of affairs perpetuated by the plebiscite of low-information voters and people who just don’t give a rat’s….if you get my drift.
Truth be told, Sprague Dawley had a certain weakness for experimental music. The factious subject of zombie voters is an entirely different matter–a horse of a different color, if you will.
I enjoyed your reply to Cynthia as much as I enjoyed your story. Perhaps Mr. Dawley left on an extended venerean excursion?
After all, Sprague is a rat, and these busybody rodents are well-known for their fecundity. (Gives new meaning to the word busybody!)
Such a world, where you cannot trust even Sprague Dawley. Good story.
…to say nothing of the black-hearted taxman!
A story of misplaced trust? ! Maybe black – hearted taxmen can sense the allure of fine oil work – or fall foul of the rock music? Rather than trust the ratty Sprague! An interesting conundrum! 🙂
Some say being opportunistic is not a particularly desirable trait–but Sprague does it with such panache.
The salacious details of her acquaintance with Sprague Dawley sound quite intriguing. Sprague is obviously a well practised rat – unless the temptation of the wonderful excursion those oil paintings could buy him was just too much to withstand. Ms Whitecoat would have been better taking her chances with the black-hearted tax-man.
Better off with the taxman–oh, the irony! Unfortunately, nothing good can be said about Sprague (except for his long, aphrodisiac whiskers), as charisma often passes for substance–but rarely substitutes for it.