A tourist wanders into an antique shop on Dunbar High Street. Picking through the objects on display he discovers a detailed, life-sized bronze sculpture of a rat. The sculpture is so interesting and unique that he picks it up and asks the shop owner what it costs.
“£12.00 for the rat, sir,” says the shop owner, “and £1000.00 more for the story behind it.”
“You can keep the story, old man,” he replies, “but I’ll take the rat.”
The transaction complete, the tourist leaves the shop with the bronze rat under his arm. As he crosses the end of West Port, two live rats emerge from a drain and fall into step behind him.
Nervously looking over his shoulder, he begins to walk faster but every time he passes another drain, more rats come out and follow him. By the time he reaches the end of the High Street, at least a hundred rats are at his heel and people begin to point and shout.
He walks even faster, down past the Swimming Pool and soon breaks into a trot as multitudes of rats swarm from sewers, basements, vacant lots and abandoned cars. Rats by the thousands are at his heals as he sees the Harbour at the bottom of the hill and he panics and starts to run full tilt.
No matter how fast he runs, the rats keep up, squealing hideously, now not just thousands but millions so that by the time he comes rushing up to the water’s edge a trail of rats 500 yards long is behind him.
Making a mighty leap, he jumps up onto a waterside lamp post, grasping it with one arm while he hurls the bronze rat into the harbour with the other as far as he can heave it. Pulling his legs up and clinging to the lamp post, he watches in amazement as the seething tide of rats surges over the harbour wall into the water where they drown.
Shaken and mumbling, he makes his way back to the antique shop.
“Ah, so you’ve come back for the rest of the story,” says the owner.
“No,” says the tourist, “I was wondering if you have a bronze lawyer.”
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