"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."