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What's Your Exit?

Memorial Day weekend was seventy-two hours away and the rats were everywhere. Blame it on the unusually mild winter, indict Mayor Bruno for the deal he cut with the Sacco Disposal Co., or chalk it up to hardy genes and an indifferent God, but Surfside was swarming with the gnawing, feasting, furiously breeding little bastards. They overran the restaurants and hotels on Ocean Parkway, nested in the brick ovens of Pizza Palace, and chewed apart the plugs of pinball machines in the Monstrous Mega-Rcade. They gathered in hordes under the boardwalk and came up at night to storm the rusted amusements of Pleasure Dome Park, and they frightened away the lunch ladies with their fighting and copulating in the cafeteria at Our Lady. Worst of all, on Sunday morning they had disposed of the blood and body in the chapel next door....

from "Surfside Rats"