I went down to the scary basement today to turn off the breakers to the bathroom so I could put up new fixtures. I thought while I was down there, I'd check on the decomposing rat Charlie and I left behind when we fixed the drain hose to the air conditioner.
There's just one little problem with that plan.
The dead rat is gone.
After I finished squealing, "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!" it occurred to me that there might be a reasonable explanation for the missing rat. So I called Charlie.
"Did you pick up that dead rat out of my basement?" I asked him.
"Hell no, I didn't! I got enough health problems as it is without pickin' up a dead rat," Charlie said.
Oh.
Then something else carried away the rat carcass.
Something big enough to carry a rat.
Or big enough to eat it.
Something wicked.
Which means that someplace in my foundation, there's a hole big enough for something wicked that carries away dead rats to get inside my house.
All together now: Ewwwwwww.