Log: Rats in the Walls - October 9, 2004

Mission and Bay (Upper West Side)

The intersection of Mission and Bay is one that distills the eclectic nature of the entire town into a single moment of space, a point of focus that nearly all new students drive through on their way up the hill toward the university. On one corner stands an old liquor store, there for decades and showing obvious signs of its age. Across the street is what used to be a bank, an oddly-designed building in white stucco with a large mural on the parking-lot side. Having gone through a half-dozen iterations since the bank moved on, it eventually settled as a restaurant with a very Northern California 'feel' to the menu, mixing Mexican, sandwiches, and vegetarian cuisine. On a third corner stands Sylvan Music, home of some of the finest stringed instruments in the state. One wall of this building is decorated in murals as well, pointing tourists down toward the bay and the Santa Cruz Boardwalk. A small, unassuming shop next door houses one of the finest gourmet chocolate-makers in the country, wedged between the musical instruments and a martial arts dojo.

Contents: Alessandra, Mattie

Mattie shuffles down the sidewalk, shawls clasped about her shoulders, toying with a piece of chalk in one hand. She regards the chalk closely, even as she walks, squinting almost suspiciously at it.

Alessandra appears to be in front of Sylvan Music, peering into the window, much as a child might if presented with a toy store.

Mattie continues to shuffle along the sidewalk, but pauses as Alessandra presents an obstacle. She peers owlishly at the woman, then look into the window herself. Then sniffs and says in her crackly voice, "Thin strings break. Fragile. They like fragile things, though." She nods emphatically.

Alessandra glances towards Mattie curiously, before she comments, "Not my strings, but then I play the cello and by no means can those be called 'thin'." Her eyes swing back to the window and she appears a little wistful.

Mattie hmphs. "Better thick than thin. Lasts longer that way." She tugs her shawls. "Too many things break. Valuable is breakable, and then it's all gone. Stolen. Better that poison were good, but if it were, then the rats would still be here, for all they eat it." She scowls at that. "Bastards."

Alessandra tilts her head and quirks a brow. Nevermind she's from Berkeley, land of the homeless, she's still not so good at dealing with them. She settles for a simple, "I see." Non-committal.

Mattie eyes Alessandra sideways, then says, "Do you work for them? The ratses? Sneaky bastards." Her expression is suspicious again.

"No, I work for an architectural design firm," Alex explains carefully. Damn, she's landed a crazy one. She echoes, "The ratses?"

On cue, the music starts, in a sort of Monty Python "He's going to tell" kind of way. Out of nowhere, of course. This song sounds a little more out of "Nightmare Before Christmas" however. Mattie grins yellowly, and capers about as she sings,

"They creep and they slink
And they crawl through the night.
And if you don't watch
Then they'll give you a fright!"

The music continues, obviously predicting more verses to come. Oh, dear.

Aw shit. Wait. Alex squints at Mattie for the telltale signs. No, can't see 'em. Then she starts paying attention to the song, to see if she can pick out the 'deep dark secret' to be revealed, even if she still looks a little confused.

Mattie continues, to sing, oblivious to Alex's scrutiny,

"They plot and they scheme
With eyes beedy and black;
If they have their way,
I'll be dead in a sack!"

A rather arthritic twirl accompanies that, along with a music-accompanied cackle. A xylophone continues to pick out the morbidly cheerful tune, rather like a zombie carnival accompaniment.

Alessandra tilts her head the other way, though there's a slight shake.

Mattie grins yellowly again, and continues,

"With twitchy black whiskers
And their long furless tails
No one suspects they're behind
All my travails!"

She scowls, and adds, spoken, "Bastards!" as the music continues to skirl.

Alessandra nods sagely at hearing this, as she feels like she has to provide some sort of support. Still, escape opportunities may present themselves at any time.

Mattie smiles grimly, and skips about during a short musical interlude. Then she reaches what is obviously the final verse:

"But one day will come
I can promise you now
Those rats will be dead
And I'll dance and I'll bow!"

She capers along the sidewalk once more, kicking her skirts about, veined legs displayed most disturbingly. Then, as the music winds to a close, she takes a deep, florid bow, eyes gleaming. And catches her breath. Apparently this is quite an exertion for the old woman.

Alessandra ahs as she listens to the last of the song. She does clap politely before asking, why do rats want you dead? Are you their long lost queen or something?"

Mattie straightens, then gives Alessandra a look as though the other woman is insane. "They're bastards, all of them. Ate all the sparkses, they did." She scowls. "Bastards, fucking bastards." Her shawls are tugged around her more tightly, muttering, "Queen of the Ratses? Hah. Ate my sparkses. Owe 'em nothing. Dead, dead, dead, dead!" She seems more agitated with each repitition of the word, hands clenching.

Alessandra uh huhs, as she begins to edge away a little, "Sparkses?" That's it, spark a rant so Alex can tiptoe away.

Mattie hmphs. "Sparkses. In everything." Gnarled fingers gesture at random at the surroundings. "Everywhere. But then it broke. Fell apart. Tiny pieces."

Alessandra uh huhs, "I see. And the rats did it?" She is curious, despite herself.

Mattie nods, scowling again. "Bastards. Dirty little bastards. Ate all the sparkses, made it cold. Hate 'em. Hate, hate, hate, hate. Still at it. Gots to watch for them."

"I see," Alex falls back to the safe reply.

Mattie squints at Alex owlishly. "They'll eat you too," she adds, conversationally. "If you don't watch out for 'em." How reassuring.

Alessandra mmmmms, "Nice. How do I avoid them?"

Mattie shrugs. "Don't know." She sighs heavily. "Don't know." She shakes her head, then picks at a loose bit of yarn on one of her fingerless gloves absently.

Alessandra asks, almost too curiously, "How do you avoid them?"

Mattie hehs, her eyes gleaming. "Didn't." She cackles bitterly. "Came. Ate all the sparkses. Now it's dark. Cold. Dark." She shivers, pulling her shawls tighter. "Couldn't see, anymore. Went looking. But they're there. In the dark. With their eyes..." She glances around, furtively, as though watching out for the rats.

Alessandra points out, "But you're still alive." She's a little confused on this point.

Mattie squints at Alessandra suspiciously. "Am I?"

"Uh huh," Alex says. "Pinch yourself, if you don't believe me."

Mattie hmphs and does indeed pinch her arm. Then she looks at Alessandra expectantly. "So?"

Alessandra prompts, "Did you feel pain?" She's stopped moving and is now watching the old woman.

Mattie shrugs. "Hurts to pinch," she says.

Alessandra bobs her head, "Then I think, traditionally, that means you're alive."

Mattie shrugs. "Different ways to that. What kind of alive's it, when there's no sparkses, eh?" She cocks her head to one side, birdlike.

"There's every chance that you might get them back, isn't here?" Alex asks. "Isn't there always hope as long as you're not dead?"

Mattie picks at a thread on her glove. "Mebbe. Hard to see anything, when it's dark." A pause. "Bloody ratses."

Alessandra points out practically, "If it's dark, find a light."

Mattie cackles at that, as though it's the best joke ever, holding her sides.

Alessandra appears offended. Then again, she is the one who stopped her escape and chose to get in a fight with a homeless person.

When Mattie finally stops laughing, she wipes at her eyes. "Simple and easy aren't the same."

Alessandra shrugs and says curtly, "I never said it would be either."

Mattie smirks. "Not for want of trying."

There's a shrug as Alex replies, "I guess. Well, anyway, don't let any rats kill you." She begins to drift away.

Mattie shrugs and turns her attention back towards the piece of chalk. "Be careful," is her mumbled reply, most of her attention absorbed by the white, powedery stick. Because apparently chalk is interesting. Then again, she's obviously more than a few crayons short of a box.

"Yeah, you too," then she trots away. Leave, flee the crazy woman.

Mattie seems wholly absorbed in the chalk now, muttering softly to herself under her breath. Yep, flee the crazy lady.