[ Wp ] When a rat is more than just a rat , call Magic Pest Control

They do n't call me for the little jobs. No one phones me because they've got termites in the attic, or a mousehole in the skirting board. No one calls me because their house has unexplained scratching noises in the wall, or because there are droppings in the pantry. In fact, homeowners do n't call me much at all. 
 
 Homeowners tend to call the regular exterminators. They call when the regular, store-bought slug pellets do n't have any effect. They call when the rats are tracking through the poison without stopping for a taste. Essentially, homeowners call exterminators when the problem has gotten a little out of hand. When it's beyond their ability to deal with it. 
 
 I get the call when exterminators are in the same situation. Their traps and poisons are n't working. The slugs keep coming back, despite everything they do. When they're dealing with a bigger infestation of bigger things than they can sort on their own. 
 
 Humans live surrounded by vermin. You're never more than fifty metres from a rat. The biomass of all the ants in the world far outweighs that of all the humans. There are countless parasites and fungi and crawling things everywhere, on every continent, in every city and every home. And some of those slimy, scabrous things are truly, truly strange. 
 
 There are slugs that ooze together, forming into a single larger slug, pooling their strength. There are cave bats who do n't just use sound to navigate, but consume it, stealing the words from your mouth and flooding your home with silence. There are rats with uncountable legs, the ground beneath them blurring as they walk. 
 
 Your average exterminator does n't have a way of dealing with such things. They have a list of poisons a yard long, but it does n't list any ways to kill shuffling, predatory rugs. They stock all the latest trap designs, but no trap ever built can cage parasitic lightning. 
 
 That's when they call me. The exterminator plenipotentiary, empowered by both local councils and unspeakable pacts to deal with vermin - wherever and whatever it is. I'm the person who knows how to trap sparking electricity in amber, who can play the songs that lead rats scampering and scrabbling into the river. I have a list of poisons two yards long, and half of those are written in ink that shifts as you look at it. 
 
 It's normally an urgent job by the time they call me. First the homeowner tries to fix it on their own, then the exterminator. Then they all spend a while refusing to accept what's really going on. But eventually, the exterminator goes back to his batter van, and delves deep inside a glove box or a wallet for a tattered, red-and-yellow business card - a card given to him, furtively, by another exterminator. A mentor, or a close friend. Someone who's called the number before. 
 
 By then, it's almost too late. Almost. It's generally a bit of a battle - fur and scales and feathers flying everywhere. I have to use every trick in the book sometimes, try every strategy, even the ridiculous ones. But I've been doing this a while now, and my book of tricks has a lot of pages in it. 
 
 If you end up needing me, give me a call. If you've got magpies that steal dreams, or ants who build nests backwards in time, pick up the phone. You wo n't regret it. My rates are very reasonable.
