My blog is mind over body kind of like plucking nose hairs.

The most revered of all mapmakers was Hanz the Coelacanth Cartographer. He was not a fish but just an old crusty gentleman who lived on even though the Middle American (Cartographer) Progressive known as MAP thought he died only to discover Hanz sailing off the Horn of Africa ten years later.  He smiled and waved with his bulging brown eyes staring at the occupants of the other craft as they returned with waving and uneasy smiles.  His sun bleached face glistening like a freshly baked cherry glazed doughnut under the fluorescent lights of the pastry shop. He was drunker than a rum soaked sailor and smelled sourer than a lye soaked three days dead sailor dismembered by a pack of forty rats.

 

If I had a pack of rats, it would be a forty pack.  20 is two small and 60 is too much to carry.  40 fits right in the cart and usually you get a 10% discount if buy all of the same kind of rat.  I usually pick the Czech or a Russian River Rat, mainly because they can swim.  Smoking rats, it can mean so many things, but a dead rat is just a dead rat.