The rats return part1

My name is Alf Smith and I’m the owner and ringmaster of Alfredo’s Amazing circus (afternoon performances Wednesday and Saturday, children half price). We’re not really that big and move weekly between villages all over Europe.

We’d just struck the big top and packed all our gear ready to move out at first light in the morning. The old hands had gone to bed for the rest of the night, but we had several new people with us and I was telling them the story of a chap who called himself Sir George. He’d stayed and worked with us for a while, when the circus was passing through Spain several years ago.

George had been brought to us in a police car followed by a horse box. The policeman told us he’d been found riding his horse the wrong way along a motorway and was obviously loco. He claimed to have arrived in the country by magic and was really a well known dragon slayer. Well of course he was just our sort of bloke, so we agreed to take him in and anyway we had facilities to look after his horse. He stayed until we crossed the channel to England where he wanted to find a particular witch who he said could send him back where he belonged.

In the meantime we found an old pantomime horse costume which we turned into a dragon by stitching on a new head, and the clowns would run round the ring inside this thing, with George chasing them on horseback and whacking them with a wooden sword. It all proved very popular with our audiences until one day George got upset, put on his full armour and cut off the dragons head with a very real and very sharp sword, before riding off into the night.

At that point in the story, one of the old hands ran up to our little group.

“Hey boss I think this is something you ought to come and see! There’s a rat wearing some sort of jacket, carrying a card a big as itself. When I went a bit closer he actually wrote a message to me on the card while I watched.”

Well that was something I had to see with my own eyes. If it really was true there might be money in it for us, selling tickets to let the punters watch a rat who could write.

The rat was waiting for us next to a hedge in the far field. It obviously didn’t trust us and had an escape route ready planned. That was quite impressive in itself, but then just as Joe had said, it began writing on the card in large letters. “Aide moi si vous plait.”

“Looks like French to me,” said Joe.

“Not really surprising,” I said, “we are in France after all!”

Before I could say anything else, the rat turned the card over and wrote on the other side. “Please help me.”

I knelt down very slowly so as not to frighten it and wrote a reply on the card. “Of course I will, my name is Alf.”

This was going to be a gold mine, not only could the rat write, but it obviously understood what was said to it and could write in at least two languages.

We went on talking for quite a while. The other members of the circus woke up as the news spread and they all gathered round in a half circle, leaving the rat’s escape route open so that it wouldn’t get frightened.

The rat told us that he was the member of a group that had escaped from some sort of danger in England. Now the group wanted to go back there and find the place they’d escaped from. It sounded daft to me, but he explained that they needed machinery and raw materials to make some equipment before they could proceed on their travels. His group would be willing to work for us if they could travel with us to England until they found the place where they’d come from.

It sounded fine to me, it was a bit like Sir George all over again and we could certainly use a good draw for the coming months.

I agreed to look after the rats and not lock them up in cages. Once that had been accepted the rat squeaked for a few moments and a hundred or so rats came out of the hedge in answer to his call. They came in all shapes and sizes, and now that I was getting used to talking to rats, I could see twenty or thirty like the first rat who appeared to be the leaders. I showed them one of the half empty food trailers, where the leader expressed himself satisfied with both the accommodation and the generous supply of food.

To make things easier talking to him I asked him his name. “I’m known as KY42273,” he replied.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if we just called you George” I suggested, using the first name that came into my head. He seemed very taken with the idea and there was a long squeaking session amongst the group. We left them to settle down for the night on their own, before discussing the sort of work they’d be able to do for us to pay their way.

The next morning we were amazed to see all the rats wearing jackets with their names written on the back. I was flattered to see an Alf, as well as an Alfredo and even an Alfonso. Some of the crew were surprised to see their own names appear on the jackets, but most of them were normal English or French names. The rats were certainly very proud of themselves and walked about happily showing off to each other.

As soon as practical I had a session with George and asked him what skills he and his colleagues possessed as well as being able to write. George was telling me they were all very good at solving mazes, when one of the drivers came over and told me that time was getting on and we should leave for our next campsite.

I looked at my watch to check the time and an idea came to me in a flash. I asked George if his group could count. I’ll swear he grinned at me before answering. “Of course we can!” We went on to have a long practical discussion about my idea and he couldn’t see any problems with my proposal