The 5t Pied Piper of Hamlin;

The 5t Listener woke the Aussie as soon as his blood alcohol level had had time to drop to .08, so that he could get relief at the wheel. Conversation soon ranged to the anticipated tourism that 5t wanted to do. "I've been to China," he elaborated. This piqued the Aussie's interest. I am not sure why, because Aussies (although their heartbeat exhibits the same 'ticking' sound as Texans',) do not come from the same mold. Nonetheless, Aussie wanderlust has been observable since aboriginal times, and the Aussie in question was no exception. In response to quizzing about his souvenir acquisitions, the 5t reveled in a new audience for his old story about the Golden Rat. He told the story well, not too fast, but without dragging.

I was in Shanghai, after an egregiously leisurely trip to China, and in somewhat of a hurry to make my way home. In search of evidence of my accomplishments for my UT System professors (he did not yet feel it proper to "take the Aussie in," with regard to the entire 5t epic,) I took a tour of the docks. There I found a vendor manning a small cart of souvenirs. I asked after this and that, and he quickly decided to list his best suggestions. "You like a Bolex watch?" he asked. I verified "Rolex or Bolex?" "Bolex," he intoned; "Original ONE!" I declined politely. "You like a Vicki Moto Pearls?" he tried again gamely. I verified again "Vicki Moto or Mikimoto?" "VICKI Moto pearls," he said testily, "NOT Japanese one!" I gave him my best six-gun stare, and instead of challenging me to a gunfight, he diplomatically compromised. "You like Golden Rat?" he ventured. "How much for the Golden Rat?" I asked. Alert to potential problems with exchange, he gave his price in Dollars. "5 dollars for the rat; 14,000 dollars for the STORY!" I smelled a bargain. I bought the 14 carat rat, and took my leave as quickly as I politely could. I'd hardly gone the distance to a hitching rail, when to my amazement, out from the woodwork, rats began to follow me. I'd heard of the guy from Hamlin, but I'd always THOUGHT he was from England, so I began to stretch my legs and run. The faster I ran, the more the rats followed me; more rats and faster. Having habitually chosen the shortest path to water (there's only one lake in Texas,) I found myself at the end of the wharf in short order. Hanging underneath by the skin of my teeth, I flung the Golden Rat as far out into the harbor as I could. To my relief, they proved my thesis by swimming out to sea (and milling around in circles where the rat sank,) until they ALL drowned. Well I determined to give the vendor a piece of my mind, and I stewed a little just getting there. By the time I arrived I had developed a solution from my Texas diplomacy and my experience of Semitic stereotypes. For his own part, he seemed quite pleased with himself, and greeted me without waiting for address: "Sooo.. You have return-ed for the stor-ay." he intoned. "No," I answered. "What I want to know is this: Do you have a golden LAWYER?"

"Your turn to drive," the Aussie replied laughing.