At the kitchen table I worked on my New Rat Chart. The Old Rat Chart was just OK. It jumped out at you but it didn’t grab your attention. I added to it and changed things around. I used a red Sharpie to highlight the numbers. I wrote the symptoms in black and underlined them in red so it would get his attention, and the New Rat Chart was both a jumper and a grabber.
I stepped back and looked at it and decided it needed one final touch, so I wrote DELUXE in red across the top.
By consulting my DELUXE Rat Chart, I could see how the inner rat moved in on Uncle Brucker. He could swing up to eighty percent rat in one day, and back again. Like a pendulum swinging out of control, each day he swings further.
You got to grab hold, Uncle Brucker. Take a good look at yourself. You can stop the swinging if you really try. Steady yourself, Unc. Balance will come naturally. If you don’t stop the swingin one day you’ll never come out.
I left the DELUXE Rat Chart on the kitchen table. Sooner or later he’ll come for a beer.
“The hell’s that?” he said.
“Oh, that. That’s nuthin’,” I said.
“Gotta be somethin’ or I’m seein’ things.”
“Oh, you mean this chart? This here’s my Rat Chart.”
“No kiddin’? A Rat Chart, you say. Let me see.”
He put the can of Boomers down on the table and pushed his glasses up on his nose. I had his attention and I was holding on.
“Take a good look at it, Unc. Basically it charts the swingin’, which should be startin’ up about ten.”
He checked the wall clock: Nine fifty-five.
“You’re right. Almost rat cravin’ time, accordin’ to this chart here. I could use a nibble myself.”
“Nibble! You said nibble.”
“So? So what,” he said.
“Rats nibble. Humans eat. Hoardin’ food at the supermarket. And forgetfulness. That’s part of the swingin’ too. It’s all down here on my new chart. Take a look at yourself, Unc. Check out the X’s.”
“You went a little crazy with the X’s.”
“You won’t go out Identifyin’ cause rats can’t count.”
“What did you say?” he said.
“I said you don’t wanna go countin’ cause rats can’t count.”
“I thought you said that. Like a rat I am, a big ole rat. You make this chart by yourself?”
“Based on facts. I don’t make up the facts, and I know what I see.”
“The rat’s movin’ in on you, Unc. You ain’t what you used to be. You gotta shake him out before he shakes you out. Let me help you try.”
“I’ve been tryin’, I really have, but I’ll try again just for you,” he said. He sounded like he meant it.
“I mean try, really try. Try hard.”
“I’ll do it for you, Walt.”
“Show me hard.”
“I’ll show ya, Walt. I’ll show ya hard!”
He grabbed the seat of the chair, spreads his legs out and steadied himself. He clamped his teeth down and his eyes went up under his lids and he groaned. He groaned like he was lifting a boulder out of hell’s basement. Veins popped out on his hands and his forehead like wormy skin snakes.
But what good did it do?
When you get down to it, not a bit.
And what did he show me? He showed me how to make a face. That’s no way to shake the rat out. Make a face. Grunt. And he didn’t do it just for me. He did it for the rat inside him because that’s who he does everything for nowadays.
He went to the living room and sat on the couch and opened the newspaper, ignoring me. He didn’t want to listen to me any more.
“Bring me a beer, will ya, Walt?”
“Non I won’t,” I said. “Ask your rat to get it for you. You and him are pals.”
And I left the Rat Chart on the kitchen table and went to my room for the night.