Pasta Heroes (1) - A short novel about noodles, rats and courage

Mutated rats with a taste for gourmet food escape from a laboratory in New York. While fast food chains remain untouched by the rats, restaurants like Pasta Heaven are getting overrun. Time for it's owner, Vincent, and his employees to grab a gun and go to war.

Vincent had seen a great deal of rats in his life, which was hardly surprising since he lived in New York and disgusting rodents are part of any big city on earth just like traffic jams, constant noise, homeless men who yell out profanities, thinly dressed girls walking up and down the same street at night, and tourists who find all of this to be incredibly exciting and usually realize way too late that their wallet is gone. Vincent had even seen many rats compared to other New Yorkers because he had entered the gastronomy scene at the age of fourteen, washing dishes and dragging out bags filled with leftovers into an alley where the rats usually awaited him. And thus Vincent didn't think much when he was walking home one night and saw a little gray rat scurry over the sidewalk and disappear into an alley. To be precise, he didn't think anything at all, he had just spent eight hours in the kitchen of his restaurant Pasta Heaven where he had been stirring various pots with one hand, flipping pans with the other, while tasting and analyzing different sauces that his saucier was bringing him, then in the next moment chopping herbs and vegetables with a speed and precision that would have impressed a robot. His mind was therefore a bit spongy at the moment and all it cared about was reaching the couch. But when Vincent opened up the door to the building he lived in, he couldn't help but notice that the rats head was peaking behind the corner of the alley, looking straight at him. That was pretty unusual, but since it didn't have anything to do with him reaching his couch, he proceeded and gently kicked the door open. Suddenly the rat came running towards him and stopped a few feet in front of him. Even though the rat's eyes were pitch black and Vincent couldn't differentiate between the pupils and the non-pupil part, the right word was slipping his mind at this late hour, he was sure that the rat wasn't actually looking at him, but rather at the plastic box in his hand which contained freshly made lasagna. That reminded Vincent himself that he was holding a plastic box with lasagna in his hand which was getting cold and would loose it's taste if he didn't hurry up.
"Enjoy the trash," said Vincent to the rat and didn't mean that sarcastically at all, he often philosophized, usually after a bit too much wine and a shot of rum for the digestion, how great life as a rat must be when every trashcan awaits with a free 12-course-menu. Vincent finally made it inside the building and started climbing up the stairs to his apartment on the fourth floor and began feeling the pain in his knees. He had been standing up for over eight hours straight, not sitting down once, his joints now feeling rusty and his feet as if they were made out of stone. To motivate himself, Vincent opened up the lid of the box and sucked in the heavenly smell of tomato sauce, basil and melted mozzarella cheese. The effect was faster, and even a bit stronger, than morphine, the pain disappeared immediately. Without having any memory of his journey up the stairs, Vincent soon found himself in his apartment, kicked off his shoes, turned on the radio and let himself sink into his couch. Accompanied by gentle piano sounds, Vincent took a first bite of the lasagna and felt like a mountaineer who has finally reached the top after a raging snowstorm and now relishes the astounding view. The freshly made dough that had taken in the salt of the water, the tomato sauce with fresh basil and oregano, a little bit of balsamic vinegar, lots of garlic and of course the crispy brown mozzarella. Even though Vincent was a rather humble person he couldn't help but feel very proud. Enjoying and experiencing every single bite, all the stress and worries of the world melted away like cheese in a pizza oven. It was only when he was done that he realized that the piano music had stopped and a voice was reporting something that, judging by the tone of the voice, was not good.

"...the Robert-Biden-Institute has issued an official statement that the experiments had nothing to do with stem cell research and were the first step in the research of a new drug to aid the development of unborn babies. It is unclear if the outbreak of the animals was an accident or indeed sabotage, though the latter one seems to become more and more likely. The head scientist, Dr. Krokowski, has been missing for over a week now. Rumors say that he has successfully fled to Mexico, and the same rumors say that this was due to private debts that Dr. Krokowski had acquired through a drug and gambling problem. None of the officials of the Robert-Biden-Institute were available for comment on this matter, which many journalist see as a confirmation. Meanwhile we are getting more and more reports from New York City where rats have invaded kitchens of restaurants, and in a few cases those of private homes as well, often going unnoticed and attacking people while cooking. If those are indeed the rats that escaped from the research facility, or even some of their offspring, is unclear at the moment. Since rats are very shy animals, a connection seems likely and the consequences could be devastating. Mayor Bill de Blasio has urged all citizens to be cautious when preparing meals and visiting restaurants. We are now continuing with the Nocturne number 12 from Chopin and will be back at midnight with the news."