The Night We Chased a Rat and Ended Up Destroying the House

  

It all started one peaceful Saturday night. The kind of night where the only thing you plan to do is eat, watch TV, and sleep like a goat that just finished chewing cassava.

We were all in the living room. Me, my cousin Kojo, my junior brother Nana, and our ever-dramatic auntie, Auntie Grace. The fan was spinning slowly — making that tired sound like it was giving its last breath. Kojo was watching football, screaming at the TV like the players could hear him. Nana was on the floor with his chin in his hands, looking bored. I was just enjoying my chilled sobolo with roasted groundnuts. Life was sweet.

Then we heard it.

Skrrr skrrr skrrr...

It was faint, but sharp. Like something was scratching wood. We all looked up.

Kojo paused the match.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice suddenly serious like a security man at midnight.

Nana stood up slowly. “I think… I think it came from the kitchen.”

We stayed quiet.

Skrrr skrrr...

This time it was louder. Auntie Grace jumped up like someone had pinched her spirit.

“Eiiii! Something is in this house o!”

Kojo stood up too. “Rat.”

One word. One small word. But that was enough to turn our peaceful night into a full-blown war.

We all ran to the kitchen.

And there it was.

A rat.

But not just any rat. This one looked like it had done gym. Muscles everywhere. It stood on the stove, chewing something with confidence. It saw us, paused, then continued chewing.

It had no fear.

Auntie Grace screamed. “JESUS!”

The rat didn’t flinch.

That’s when we declared war.

The Great Rat War Begins

Kojo, acting like a soldier on duty, grabbed a broom. I picked up a mop. Nana armed himself with a flip-flop. Auntie Grace stood behind all of us holding… a Bible. For prayers, she said. "We must rebuke this demon!"

We closed the kitchen door. No escape.

Kojo whispered, “Everybody ready?”

We nodded.

Then he shouted, “ATTACK!”

We charged like warriors in a Nollywood movie. The rat looked at us, yawned (I swear it did), and jumped down from the stove like a parkour expert.

We screamed.

The rat ran under the fridge.

Nana dived after it — flip-flop in hand — and hit the fridge instead.

PANG!

“Arrrgh!” he cried, holding his foot.

Kojo pulled the fridge. “We need to flush it out!”

We tilted the fridge. Nothing.

Then the rat darted out from behind it and zoomed into the living room.

“IT’S RUNNING!”

We followed it like mad people.

It ran under the sofa.

We flipped the sofa. That’s when we heard the first “CRACK!”

One of the legs broke.

Kojo shouted, “Forget the sofa! We’ll buy a new one! Get the rat!”

The rat ran into Auntie Grace’s room.

Now, let me explain something — Auntie Grace’s room is her pride and joy. Everything inside is neatly arranged like a hotel. Entering with dusty slippers is enough to start World War 3.

So when we stormed in with broom, mop, flip-flop and a limp, she screamed louder than all of us.

“MY ROOM?!? HEEEEEY!”

But we had no time for apologies.

The rat had jumped onto her dressing table. Then it did the unthinkable.

It ran across her perfumes.

And pushed one down.

CRASH!

Expensive bottle, gone. Shattered. Auntie Grace fainted, came back, and fainted again.

“You people will kill me today!”

The House Begins to Fall Apart

Kojo stepped forward, looking serious.

“This is no ordinary rat,” he said. “This is a demon. A spirit. A spiritual rat.”

We all agreed. The way the rat was moving — confidently, boldly — it was clearly sent from the village.

Meanwhile, Auntie Grace sat on the floor, rocking back and forth like someone in a Nigerian movie.

“I told you people to be fasting! You were eating indomie and watching cartoons. Now look!”

We ignored her. The mission was not complete. The rat was now inside Auntie Grace’s wardrobe.

Kojo opened the door slowly. Nana raised his flip-flop, ready to strike.

The rat was sitting there. Looking straight at us.

Like it was daring us.

Kojo screamed and swung the broom.

The rat jumped out — and landed straight on Auntie Grace’s bed.

Big mistake.

Kojo, forgetting his surroundings, dove after it. Broom in hand. Full WWE-style dive.

CRASH!

The bedframe gave up. The mattress folded like bread. Kojo landed in the middle, legs in the air.

I laughed so hard I nearly passed out.

The rat, probably laughing too, escaped again — this time back into the kitchen.

We ran after it like possessed people.

And then it ran… into the ceiling.

Yes. It somehow climbed the cabinet and vanished into the hole in the ceiling.

That’s when we knew the battle was over. You can’t chase a rat into the ceiling unless you have a ladder, nine lives, and a prayer team.

We all stood there, breathing hard. Sweaty. Defeated. Broken.

The living room was upside down. The sofa leg was broken. A picture frame had fallen. The carpet had flipped.

Auntie Grace’s room? Haa! Her perfume smashed. Wardrobe open. Bed collapsed. Her wig was hanging on the window like it wanted to escape the house.

And the rat?

Gone. Laughing, probably.

The Rat’s Grand Finale

We were too tired to continue.

Kojo was lying on the broken bed like a defeated gladiator. Nana sat in the corner, nursing his stubbed toe. I was drinking the last of my sobolo in silence. Auntie Grace had given up completely. She was sitting outside with her Bible on her lap, whispering, “Father, any witch from my hometown that has turned into a rat, expose them by fire!”

Then, just as we were catching our breath… we heard it again.

Skrrr… skrrr…

We froze.

It was back.

THE RAT WAS BACK!

This time, it came down from the ceiling like a professional stuntman and landed softly… on the TV shelf.

Everyone jumped.

“No. Not my flat screen,” I whispered.

The rat looked around like it was inspecting its kingdom.

And then… it peed.

On the shelf.

Kojo lost it.

“THAT’S IT! I’m burning this house down!”

He grabbed a can of insecticide and a matchstick.

Auntie Grace shouted from outside, “If you light fire in my house, you will meet your ancestors tonight!”

We had to act fast.

So we got smart.

We left cheese on the floor.

No movement.

We tried fried fish.

Still nothing.

Then Nana — the genius of the house — brought out cold kenkey.

And like magic, the rat came down.

It sniffed. Moved slowly. Took a bite.

AND WE STRUCK.

Kojo hit it with the broom. Nana smacked it with the flip-flop. I poked it with the mop.

Auntie Grace screamed prayers from outside.

It was chaos. And somehow, through the madness…

We caught it.

Yes, we caught the rat. It was in a bucket. Trapped. Breathing fast. Angry.

We took it outside and let it go in the bush — but not before Kojo gave it a lecture.

“Go and tell your brothers. This house is not for you. If you return, we’ll deal with you!”

We returned inside — victorious.

But the house?

Destroyed.

Living room: upside down.
Sofa: limping.
TV shelf: pee-stained.
Kitchen: looking like a war zone.

Auntie Grace’s room: looked like it had been robbed.
Our dignity: in shambles.

Auntie Grace just looked at us and said, “I leave you people for God.”

We never saw that rat again. Maybe it went to tell its friends that our house was a battlefield.

We fixed the sofa with a rock.

We put bricks under the bed to hold it up.

Kojo apologized to Auntie Grace with a bar of soap and a mango.

She forgave us… eventually.

Now, anytime we hear the tiniest noise at night, we don’t ask questions.

We just carry brooms.

Because that night we chased a rat… we nearly destroyed the whole house.

And to be honest?

We’d do it again.

THE END.