We have a place out on Giant Rat Island where we used to spend a few weeks of the summer.

It’s not as bad as it sounds! The rats aren’t really that big, and sure, we know that there are millions of them there, creeping around in the catacombs, but we hardly ever had any problems with giant rats until Mitch showed up that year.

Mitch. Can you believe this guy? He thought the island’s name was a joke. He thought we’d named the island to keep the tourists from stopping there, and to deter unwanted guests, like himself for instance, from inviting themselves along for our family vacation. ’Who wants to go to Giant Rat Island?’ We just presumed that nobody wanted to come along.

It’s true, nobody has ever wanted to come to the island before, and my family and I, we were fine with that, since Giant Rat Island was our family retreat-- not really something that we invited guests to. I hardly even knew Mitch, so I didn’t plan to invite him along. It all happened so fast.

Mitch. So he goes to my parents and begs them to take him along to the island, and in just a few minutes, he somehow persuades them to agree to it: Mitch would be coming along with us to Giant Rat Island that year.

Giant Rat Island

The Story is All Downhill From Here

I would be happier if I could write this without mentioning that Mitch had worn bright yellow swimming trunks with little cheese wedges printed all over them to Giant Rat Island.

It would be great if I could report otherwise, but the rats of Giant Rat Island didn’t eat Mitch and his cheese shorts.

I would probably enjoy writing about that trip to the island if it weren’t for the fact that the giant rats actually seemed to like Mitch, or that he turned out to be some kind of rat whisperer, and soon had the whole lot of them following him around the grottos all day and night.

Could I write about the perfect weather that year, without also mentioning how Mitch and his rodent hordes had taken over the whole waterfall area every day? It’s not a huge deal, it’s just that the nicest, most pristine swimming area had Mitch and his cheese shorts always in it, all over it, all the time. Him and I guess every rat on the island, now enjoying my family vacation a great deal more than I was.

Imagine my disappointment, if you will, when we discovered that-- contrary to my accusations-- Mitch was not feeding the giant rats, but that the rats genuinely loved Mitch. They adored him.

We always used to feel a twinge of pride about how smart the rats on Giant Rat Island were, but when I accidentally witnessed one of the awkward music-less erotic dance routines that the giant rats put on for Mitch one day in the grotto, I felt some new concerns. Mainly I just felt dirty, and wondered if the ocean itself could ever wash that sight from my eyes.

While I wanted to end this with a bit about how I never wanted to leave the lovely island, and how the crashing waves against the isle had enchanted me, the truth is; I was ready to go.

There was supposed to be a section about how I didn’t want the vacation to end, but I really wanted the vacation to end.

If only I could write that we took off and hauled Mitch back to the mainland and vowed never to bring guests along to Giant Rat Island again. Instead, I have to write that when it came time to leave, Mitch and his clan of rats had disappeared into the catacombs, and to make a sad story a little shorter; we ended up leaving him there.

It’s hard to say how I felt when I saw that cheese-yellow glint on the beach as we pulled away from the island that year. It’s really a shame that all I can remember is that my imagination took over the story of Mitch from that day on, but nothing that I imagined about Giant Rat Island was pleasant after that.

I’d like to conclude by saying that we went back the next year and Mitch was gone, but alas-- we never went back.

Mitch. Can you believe this guy?

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artwork 'Giant Rat Island' is mine from 2018, pens and paint markers on colored paper. Story is completely made up, we don't really have a place on the Island, and I'm sure Mitch is doing fine.

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