"What is it?" asked his wife.

"It's a rat," said Terry Whelper. "The ugliest goddamn rat I ever saw."

"They threw a rat in our car?"

"Apparently."

Jason said, "Too bad we didn't bring Grandpa's gun."

Gerri Whelper looked shaken and confused. "Why would they throw a rat in our car? Is it alive?"

"Very much so," Terry reported. "It's eating from a bag of Raisinets."

"Those are mine!" Jennifer cried.

The Whelpers stood there discussing the situation for fifteen minutes before a highway patrol car pulled up, and a young state trooper asked what was the matter. He listened sympathetically to the story about the rat in the rented LeBaron.

"You want me to call the Avis people?" he asked. "Maybe they'll send another car."

"Actually, we're on a pretty tight schedule," explained Gerri Whelper. "We've got reservations at a motor lodge in Key Largo. They said we had to be there by five or else we lose the rooms."

Jennifer, who had almost stopped crying, said: "I don't care about the motel, I want a different car."

Terry Whelper said to the trooper, "If you could just help me get rid of it."

"The rat?"

"It's a big one," Terry said.

"Well, I can probably shoot it."

"Could you?" Gerri said. "Please?"

The trooper said, "Technically, it's against regulations. But since you're from out of town..."

He stepped out of the patrol car and unsnapped the holster strap on his .357.

"Wow!" said Jason.

Jennifer put her arms around her mother's waist. Terry Whelper manfully directed his brood to move safely out of the line of fire. The state trooper approached the LeBaron with the calm air of a seasoned lawman.

"He's under the seat," Terry advised.

"Yeah, I see him."

The trooper fired three times. Then he bolstered the gun, reached into the convertible and picked up what remained of the creature by what remained of its tail. He tossed the misshapen brown lump into some holly bushes.