Occasionally, I have silly stories in my head in which Pathetic Bob does not make an appearance. This is one of them.
While talking to someone the other day, he said, “I don’t give a rat’s ass.” It is an expression I have used myself, but on that day, a change came over me and I wanted to “give a rat’s ass.” The problem was I didn’t know who I was going to give it to. That’s when I decided to visit Mr. Billy Reindeer.
Billy Reindeer is a recent arrival to our fair city from the state of Alaska. As a citizen of Alaska Mr. Billy plied his trade as an itinerant hermit and Philosophical bon vivant. It is said his knowledge knows no bounds or leaps.
I met Mr. Billy at his suburban limestone cave. We sat down over a glass of iced tea. “So here’s the deal Mr Billy,” I said, “I’d like to give a rat’s ass, but I’m not sure how to go about it. Any help you could give me would be greatly appreciated.”
“Son,” he drawled in his Alaskan accent, “before you give it away you gotta understand what you are giving. Let’s go back to the ancient Greeks, where this whole rodent rump thing started. Aristotle, in his first book “Of Mice and Men,” hypothesized that the logos was located in a mouse’s butt, and mice were a gift from the Gods. So in addition to rasslin’ nekkid, the Greeks were obliged to hand out rat asses as a sign of understanding and peace. Not to give a rat’s ass was an invitation to war.”
Mr. Billy took another swig of his tea and continued. “The Romans, who just loved ripping off the Greeks, co-opted the custom and called it “rodentium et touche, meaning “Give me a rat’s ass or I will smite thee with French bread.”
Well Mr. Billy, if I’m to stay true to the old ones, any suggestions on who I should give a rat’s ass to?”
“Know any Etruscans?”
“Well then son, I’d give it to a monkey. They like the texture and are very appreciative.”