Is there really such a thing as bad luck? Speaking personally, I hadn’t given any thought to this question till a couple of weeks ago, when, despite the winter season, a certain human neighbour of mine decided to paint all of his window sills bright red. To put you in the picture, Mr. and Mrs. Davies are an older couple who live in the house next door to Mr. Lewis and his family. They are retired now, but Mr. Davies likes nothing better than keeping busy with a constant stream of home improvement jobs. And so it came about, that finding himself with some time on his hands, he chose the unlikely month of February to begin his latest DIY project. Then quick as a flash he put his ladder up against the wall of his property and set to work.
Meanwhile, given that the next day was St. Valentine’s Day, I had been contemplating what kind of gift I might present to a rather attractive lady rat that I wished to impress. After much deliberation, at long last the inspiration came to me that she would surely appreciate a nice bunch of snowdrops. Then wondering where I could find such lovely wild flowers, I soon recalled that I had seen them growing in splendid profusion in Mr. Davies’s garden. And thus it was, that on the same morning that my next door neighbour erected the ladder on his lawn, I found myself walking under these very same steps towards the flower bed on the far side of his garden. And before you ask – yes, fans, I was of course familiar with the age-old notion that it’s bad luck to walk under ladders. But since I had never seriously imagined that there WAS such a thing as bad luck, this piece of advice seemed like sheer nonsense to me, and so I proceeded on my way.
Sure enough, my outward-bound journey proved to be quite uneventful. I passed beneath the contraption with no nasty surprises, and quickly filled my arms with the stunning white blooms. It was, however, on my return home that a whole great avalanche of disasters began tumbling down on my head…
And thus it happened that I had just got underneath Mr. Davies’s ladder when something cold and wet landed on my nose. Assuming it was a raindrop, I licked it off, and promptly got a mouthful of bitter chemicals. But before I had time to realise that this was actually spilled paint, I glanced down to see my beautiful bouquet of white flowers covered in deep red blots that looked for all the world like blood. Upon this, I let out a scream, and my flowers scattered to the four winds!
Startled by the sound, Mr. Davies peered enquiringly under the ladder, only to spy a white rat in a tweed jacket and bow-tie ejecting bunches of snowdrops into the air. At the sight of that his heart leapt with fright, and the sudden shock unbalanced him. Then, as he tipped backwards off the steps, he landed with a SPLAT in a bulk bag of building sand, sending showers of the stuff into my eyes! The sharp little grains made them smart and flow with water, so that I was forced to snap them shut – meaning, of course, that I now couldn’t see. And so it was, that while I was shaking my head in an effort to clear my eyes, a revived Mr. Davies was clambering speedily out of the sand bag.
Next thing I knew, something had seized me by the tail and was swinging me up to the sky. With that, I screamed again and twisted round to sink my teeth into a large, hairy hand. There was a cry of pain from my neighbour, followed by a crashing sound as he stumbled into the ladder, and I suddenly saw a tidal wave of red filling the horizon and racing relentlessly towards me. Then just as I fell free of the man, the paint overtopped me and turned me scarlet from head to toe! But directly after that it all went very dark, and I soon noticed the sound of my own breath coming back to me with a strange metallic echo.
Not long after this I began heaving and squeezing my way out from under the paint-can, till at length I emerged squinting with the strain into the morning sunlight. To my surprise, however, Mr. Davies was nowhere to be seen. Could the tin have actually landed right on top of me all by itself? I was still pondering that philosophical question, when another sudden noise made me abruptly look up. It was then that I discerned what appeared to be an abandoned paint brush sliding off the window sill above me. As I stood there frozen in disbelief, it grew rapidly larger till with a resounding SMACK it hit me square between the eyes!
Ouch, that hurt! What on earth was going on? I was clearly being targeted, yet not a single human being was in sight!
Rubbing my sore head, it was at that moment that I realised that all of these calamities were taking place on the thirteenth of the month – a number long associated with misfortune. So was it true, then? Was this my unlucky day?
I was still turning it over in my mind, when a familiar and much admired female person came into view on the other side of the garden. Yes fans, this was, as you correctly guessed, the same lady rat for whom I had earlier gathered the bright white flowers as a romantic gift. But I was horrified to see that she was now walking arm in arm with a weedy-looking black rat who had thinning hair, oversized ears and a flittering, flattering tongue! And yet, defying all known laws of good judgment, there she was, gazing amorously into his dark and devious eyes as if he were the noblest creature that ever graced the planet! As he bent down to pluck her a solitary snowdrop in token of his devotion, I just couldn’t contain my contempt! I mean, REALLY! Did she actually prefer that creepy little feral fur ball to ME, the one thousand three hundred and thirteenth in line to the Throne of Rattyland? ME, the Acrobatic Aristoc-Rat? ME, the one and only Lion-Hearted Super-Rat, of international acclaim?
Then I finally understood the truth. It wasn’t bad luck that was bombarding me with all these obstacles to my heart’s desire. It was my very own, thoroughly dedicated, and hopelessly workaholic, guardian angel! And now that he had actually got through to me, I really couldn’t be more thankful for his services. After all, what was a dousing in red paint compared to the woes of a doomed romance? Huh! Bad luck, indeed! As a result of this enlightening experience, I’m now quite sure that only ignorant, superstitious people still believe in THAT.
And so, dear fans, I leave you with this thought. Good things often come to us in disguise, so my advice is, when something bad happens, we should always keep calm and look for the hidden positives to cheer us up. Well, I was going to say a lot more about this, but surprisingly, the lights have just gone out. Hmm, must be a power cut, I suppose…
OW! Darn it, I must have tripped on the rug and then hit my knee trying to get my flashlight, and – OH NO! Now I’ve knocked my cup of coffee over! I don’t believe it, there’s coffee over all my important papers! They’re ruined, they’re ruined! Well, so much for looking for the hidden positives, fans! From now on, bad luck or not, when horrible things happen to me, I’m never EVER going to say another cheerful word about them in my life.
And that’s FINAL!
