It was my first night at my grandmaw's this past Thanksgiving holiday and I was getting ready for bed. I was rooming with a cousin and was going to bed way after her so I was trying to be quiet as to not wake her.
I got all comfy and closed my eyes when I heard a scratching noise from the ceiling. My eyes shot open. My dad warned me about this when he picked me up earlier that day.
"I think there's a rat in the ceiling. He kept me up all night with his loud scratching."
*Goes weak in the knees.* "So much for sleeping," I thought.
And sure enough, the little rodent was there. Scratching and gnawing and making me sick to my stomach. I kept having visions of him coming right through the ceiling. I pictured a huge, cat-sized rat landing right on top of me scratching and biting while trying to get away.
That's it, I was wide awake. Got up to use the bathroom at one point and realized he was actually either in or on the other side of the wall I was sleeping next to. Lucky me.
On the other side of that wall is a porch-esque room that isn't visited very often. I guessed he was living in there and was trying to get some place warmer because it was freezing outside? I have no idea. Does it really matter?
I mean, a hackin' (not a real word) rat was trying to get in my room.
The rat and I became close. I named him Roger. After Roger Rabbit because, I'm tellin' ya, he was the most persistent thing I've ever met. I don't ever remember him quitting with the clawing.
Finally, I fell asleep. I fell asleep in fear.
Roger didn't come back the next night, praise God. I still stayed up though. Why? I stayed up because I knew that at any moment he would come. The moment I least suspected, he'd start it up again. And if I wasn't prepared, I would freak out. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, even when I was prepared I was freaking out...
Anyways, I finally fell asleep that night, too. Again, I fell asleep in fear.
That darn rat.