Picking through the objects on display he discovers a detailed, life-sized
bronze sculpture of a rat. The sculpture is so interesting and unique that
he picks it up and asks the shop owner what it costs. "Twelve dollars for
the rat, sir," says the shop owner," and a thousand dollars more for the
story behind it."
"You can keep the story, old man," he replies, "but I'll take the rat."
The transaction complete, the tourist leaves the store with the bronze rat
under his arm. As he crosses the street in front of the store, two live
rats emerge from a sewer drain and fall into step behind him.
Nervously looking over his shoulder, he begins to walk faster, but every
time he passes another sewer drain, more rats come out and follow him.
By the time he's walked two blocks, at least a hundred rats are at his
heels, and people begin to point and shout.
He walks even faster, and soon breaks into a trot as multitudes of rats
swarm from sewers, basements, vacant lots, and abandoned cars. Rats by the
thousands are at his heels, and as he sees the waterfront at the bottom of
the hill, he panics and starts to run full tilt. No matter how fast he
runs, the rats keep up, squealing hideously, now not just thousands but
millions, so that by the time he comes rushing up to the water's edge a
trail of rats twelve city blocks long is behind him. Making a mighty leap,
he jumps up onto a light post, grasping it with one arm while he hurls the
bronze rat into San Francisco Bay with the other, as far as he can heave
it. Pulling his legs up and clinging to the light post, he watches in
amazement as the seething tide of rats surges over the breakwater into the
sea, where they drown.
Shaken and mumbling, he makes his way back to the antique shop. "Ah, so
you've come back for the rest of the story," says the owner.
"No," says the tourist, "I was wondering if you have a bronze lawyer."