Cautionary Tale

Our tale begins with a Chief on holiday, wandering through the back alleys of Thunder Bay's Simpson Street, where he comes upon a little antique shop, filled with curious pieces of ­bric-­a-­brac and art objects. What especially catches his eye is a beautifully wrought, ­life-­size bronze statue of a rat. He asks the elderly shopkeeper the price. “The rat costs $12,” says the shopkeeper, “and it will be $1,000 more for the story behind it.” “Well, you can keep your story, old man,” responds the Chief, “But I’ll take the statue.”

The Chief leaves the store with the statue under his arm. As he crosses the street, he is surprised to see two rats emerge from a storm drain and fall into step behind him. He looks nervously over his shoulder and starts to walk faster. Soon more rats appear and begin to follow him. In a few minutes vermin are coming out of every sewer, basement, and vacant lot, forming themselves into swarms and packs and massing in step behind him. People on the street point and shout as the rodents force him into a trot, then a dead run. The rats, now squeaking and squealing grotesquely, stay right behind ­him.

By the time he reaches the lake's edge, the line of rats trailing him extends back for blocks. It’s a terrifying spectacle. In desperation, the Chief leaps as high as he can onto a lamppost and grasps it with one arm while, with the other, he flings the statue as far as he can into the waters of Lake Superior. To his amazement, the hordes of rats race right by him and follow the statue, surging over the breakwater and leaping into the lake . . . then promptly ­drowning.

Immediately, the Chief hurries back to the antique shop. When he appears at the door, the shopkeeper smiles knowingly and says, “Ah, yes, sir. So now you’ve seen what the statue can do, and you’ve come back to find out the story?” “No, no, no,” replies the Chief excitedly. “I don’t care about that. But can you sell me a bronze statue of a bureaucrat?”