Rat Babies

Alright boys and girls- I'm back. Stay tuned for some sweet stories about the mission, but for now listen to this tale of horror.

Serving a mission entitles you to a lot of things. You get to wear the black name tag. You are in a perma-state of sleep deprivation. You go through the emotional unrest of being released. Upon your arrival, you have the arduous task of going though all of your stuff that's been packed away in boxes for the past 18 months. Yesterday, the task of "thinning out" my stuff began.

Nate and I loaded up the back of the car with boxes from the barn and drove to the back of the house. Nate started a fire and started burning the garbage that we found. A lot of the boxes had been damaged, which resulted in a lot of my stuff being destroyed. Cool. The second box was not nearly as salvageable as the first. There was a lot of filth and mold... super awesome. Suddenly, I was moving things around and saw something that looked suspiciously like a nest resting by my red phone. Oh dang. I gingerly moved it thinking, "how in the world did this get here?" I started screaming bloody murder as 4 pink creatures fell out of the nest. RAT BABIES. Not like developed rats or anything- oh no. Fresh from a FETUS rat babies!! Worst moment of my life. Now for the record, I can handle a lot of things: spiders, flies, bees, any kind of bug really. Are we besties? No- but there is definitely a mutual understanding. Rats and mice on the other hand- no sir.

Upon hearing my blood curdling screams, my mom came running to the window. "What's the matter?" I explained the situation, my voice rising in hysteria. "Oh. Um... one second." She responds. Not two minutes later she walks out back carrying our 21-year-old cat. Great. "Is she going to eat them??" I asked, sounding appaled. My mom gave me a look as if to say, "Yes, moron." She placed the cat in the box, and I held my breath and turned away- I did not wish to partake of the carnage and MURDER. Luckily, neither did my ancient cat. She looked at the babies, took a sniff or two, and climbed out of the box, looking rather bored.

Meanwhile, I'm still freaking out. My Dad comes out and gets it done. He grabs the box, and throws it in the fire. Rat babies=dead. I felt awful!!! My little sister asked if they were sacrifices. Great. No, McKenzie. We don't belive in that. Good ole' Law of Moses was fulfilled. We are just horrible people.

I've had this burden of guilt on my chest for almost a day now. I had to get it off. Don't judge me. And don't ever store your stuff in the barn. Thank you, and goodnight.