Why the heck am I writing melancholy stuff? Is it because I have nothing else to write? Maybe deep within I am missing my melancholy self. Or is it because I am way above all this crap? Is that me who is speaking? Why am I keying in this? Has the muse left you man? Have you become so old that your brain has frozen? I need a break. Look at all those questions I have asked. I avoided the question mark as it will make the previous sentence another question. So, where were we? Ah! We are in this man's muddled brain. See the grey cells aren't firing the way they ought to. He needs to be overhauled. Dude get me a spare brain from the refrigerator. Hey, you don't have permission for that. Only GOD has the power to do that. Then why the fuck do they call me Darwin?
Last night they discovered a human in the sewers, screamed the headline on Daily Vermin Times. Ed Rat paused to scan the headline and sipped his morning tea. He was in charge of the highly successful Human Extermination Programme. He came from the highly acclaimed family of rats that had unleashed Plague on the frail human race centuries ago. At that time rats used to be in the sewers and the humans used to be outside. Maybe they too had a Vermin Extermination Program. How ironic, thought Ed. We were destined to rule the world. We withstood their poison and laboratory tests. In fact, the tests made us stronger and resistant to the diseases. Now look at them hiding in sewers away from us, fearing us. The telephone rang. Ed woke with a start from his reverie. There must be something wrong, he thought. My room has shrunk, there are metal bars everywhere. It looks like a cell. I can see my cousins in another cell. They are all playing with something. What's this lump on my hand? What&#
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