Chad was sneaking through Mrs. Gilliam's yard. He was sneaking so that he could get to a bar before anyone saw him. The last time he came roaring into town people started grabbing their heads as if they were having aneurysms. One old bat threw a rock at him. She was really old so the rock only went as far as the sidewalk. It hit some old guy in a wheelchair who started cursing. The last that Chad saw of that was the two old people going at it.

He was tired of all that. He couldn't understand why people couldn't talk in a normal tone of voice like he did. In a bar, almost everyone talked to him in a “normal” tone of voice. Sometimes, though, they also punched him. He was about half the way through the yard when he was attacked by Mrs, Gilliam's dogs. They weren't Doberman's or pit bulls but Chad was still in trouble. They were Chihuahua's. The meanest dogs, pound for pound, known to man.

Chad was sneaking through the yard in the dark and couldn't tell they were Chihuahua's. He suddenly found himself covered with rats. Screeching, biting, angry rats that had a hold of him and weren't letting go. Soon, Chad was screeching and trying to tear the rats off. He was scared to death. Rats carry the plague, he thought. The Plague! That's all he needed. Actually, what he needed now was to escape. If these rats ever got him down, he was doomed.

He made it to the sidewalk and the rats disappeared. He went to the street light and looked down at his legs. His pants were shredded and he was mangled. The rats had torn him up pretty badly. Rats! Rats carry rabies and the plague! Chad got very shaky. He decided he'd better tell the sheriff and then get to a hospital.

The sheriff was drinking coffee as he read over the day shift reports when Chad came roaring in. No one roars into a room quite like Chad. He's like tornado mixed with a hurricane. He gets your attention very quickly.

“RAT'S! THE WHOLE TOWN IS OVERRUN WITH RATS! THEY TORE ME UP AND I MIGHT HAVE THE PLAGUE! WE' GOTTA DO SOMETHING!”

The sheriff got startled and jumped up, spilling hot coffee on his lap. He wanted to take his pistol out and shoot Chad. That moment passed. After all, this was just Chad being Chad. He pointed at the chair in front of his desk and told Chad, “Sit down and tell me about the rats, Chad.”

“CATS! I SAID RATS! CATS'D BE OKAY! THEY DON'T CARRY THE PLAGUE! IF WE WERE OVERRUN BY CATS, WE WOULDN'T BE OVERRUN BY RATS!”

“Chad, listen to me. We aren't overrun by rats. I'd have heard about it”' the sheriff explained.

Chad put his feet on the sheriff's desk and said to him, “YEA! LOOK AT HOW THEY RIPPED UP MY PANTS! LOOK AT HOW THEY RIPPED UP MY LEGS!”

“Chad, get your feet off my desk”, the sheriff responded. He did look and saw that the pant legs had a series of tiny rips and Chad's did have some bite marks on his bony ankles. Still, he wasn't buying the rats.

“TIME'S A WASTIN'! GET ONE A YOUR SHOTGUNS AND GO AFTER THEM. GET ME ONE AND I'LL HELP YA!”

Give Chad and shotgun and turn him loose on the town? The sheriff may as well sign himself in at the mental ward at the hospital. The idea of arming Chad with a shotgun wasn't crazy but the act of arming him was.

“No, Chad. Let's go to where the attack happened so I can see for myself about the rats.”

“UNARMED?”

“No, I'll be armed. You won't.. I can go by myself if you'd like”, the sheriff said hopefully.

“NO, I'LL GO WITH YOU. I AIN'T SCARED”, Chad lied.

The Sheriff drove to Mrs. Gilliam's place and told her he was checking for a deer running loose. He didn't want to alarm her with a rat story he didn't believe. She told him to go ahead. He signaled Chad to come with him but Chad didn't respond even though he was looking right at the Sheriff. He's a lot deaf but not even a little bit blind, he thought. The Sheriff shined his flashlight on Chad, nearly blinding him. Chad got out of the car, slowly and reluctantly.

The Sheriff looked all around the yard with Chad on his heels, literally. Chad tripped him a couple of times. No rats.

Mrs. Gilliam cracked open the back door and asked if they had spotted the deer.

“WE AIN'T LOOKIN' FOR A SPOTTED DEER. WE'RE LOOKING FOR RATS!”, Chad yelled out to her.

“Oh, Oh!”, Mrs Gilliam cried. She clutched her heart although she was as healthy as a horse. It looked good though.

“No we're not! Well, yes we are but there aren't any rats here, Mrs Gilliam. Rest assured of that. Chad, you be quiet.” There, that should settle things down, the Sheriff thought. He shouldn't have thought that. This was Chad here.

Then Mrs Gilliam's Chihuahua's got wind of Chad and tore out the door. Mrs. Gilliam screamed, Chad screamed and the Sheriff screamed louder. This set the dogs off even more which got Chad yelling louder and got Mrs. Gilliam crying and sobbing. The Sheriff snatched the two dogs up and gave them to Mrs. Gilliam and assured her that nothing was wrong.

“You mean except for Chad being in my yard”, she replied.

“Well, yes, I suppose so. We'll be going now. My apologies ma'am.”

The Sheriff and Chad returned to the car. The Sheriff was pissed but Chad was Chad.

“Okay, Chad”, the Sheriff said. “Are you satisfied that we have no 'rat' problem?”