"What you got down here, see, is rodent damage." Irvin tugged at his pants, where the heavy toolbelt made them sag.
"Rodents?" Mrs. Lieson pulled her floral-print robe more tightly around her.
"Sure. Your squirrel, see, comes in for the warm, and they chew that plastic right off. Then leaks, loss of pressure, and boom, here I am."
Mrs. Lieson managed a relieved smile. "Squirrels?"
The floor rumbled, and from below came a terrible, mind-piercing shriek.
"'Course, sometimes it's hard to distinguish your squirrels and your basic Doom Rat." Irvin spat and reached for his wrench. "Mind yer feet, ma'am."
Whalen on Slow Reading
16 hours ago