A dozen pairs of gleaming eyes reflected the beam of my torch as I swept around the cellar. Their feral brightness startled me and the hairs on my neck bristled.
"Rats!"
"So what if we are?" a high pitched voice squealed in challenge.
I inhaled sharply. "Rats can't talk," I muttered as I peered along the beam. "Who's there?"
"They can too talk," a second voice squeaked back.
I gasped again and paused and re-evaluated my earlier statement. My long held beliefs on the nature of things had just been dramatically shaken and I could recall nothing from the training manual that would have prepared me for this.
"Okay," I stammered eventually," where did you learn to talk?"
"Hmmph! Where do you think?" was the indignant reply. Obviously I was going to receive no cooperation here.
"How the hell should I know?" My temper was fraying rapidly - I was not handling this well at all.
"Ooooh. Touchy, touchy!" several high-pitched voices chirped in chorus.
"FUCK OFF!" I flung the torch at the speakers.
Suddenly a voice rumbled and the floor shook. "Oi! You vicious bastard! Leave my friends alone!"
"What...?" It was my turn to squeak in the two seconds it took for me to lose consciousness. That can happen to a guy when the floor speaks...