Rat Hunting

Photos by Vito Fun

Rats are everywhere. They eat our garbage, they live in our walls, they have entire generations that grow old under the city, and now the fuckers are even coming out of our toilets. So why are the hicks the only ones that get to hunt? Because deer are annoying motorists and eating people’s berries? Waaah, poor babies. Rats are biting our babies in the face, you fucking rednecks. Fuck New York’s unconstitutional gun laws. Let’s git ourselv sum rats, kiddies!

VICE: How often do you hunt rats?

Rat killer: Whenever the everyday stresses pile up too high and I need a primordial escape.

How do you know where to find them?

Wherever there is garbage, there will be rats, simple as that. Rats also like being near water. In Brooklyn, there are plenty of waterfront neighborhoods with derelict areas: Williamsburg, Red Hook, and Greenpoint all have them. Lower Manhattan around Wall Street and all that has great spots as well. All these areas are relatively abandoned and they have plenty of alleyways filled with garbage. The only problem is being seen with a pistol. Things have gotten really tense with the cops about that kind of stuff since 9/11. All guns are illegal here. Even BB guns.

They sound kind of like real guns too. Don’t old ladies hear you and call the cops?

Nope. The places where we go are so far removed from the developed New York that nobody cares. These neighborhoods have minimal police presence. In Red Hook near the projects you can hear real guns going off all night long—the cops are more concerned with that than with a fool exploring abandoned corners of the city trying to kill rodents. We did paint the tip of the gun orange, though, so it looks like a toy gun. Cops have been trained not to shoot at those so maybe their subconscious will kick in and we won’t get killed.

What happened last night?

We fucking got one that was going through the garbage but he didn’t fucking die! A BB gun used to be enough to kill a rat but they’ve become superrats these days. Now it won’t work unless you get a perfect shot. That’s why this is such an art form. When he did get hit, he let out this fucking intense screech, the highest-pitched wail you’ve ever heard. It lasted about a second and a half, but it felt like an eternity. I can still hear it now. Then he scampered off into the night. They are really fucking fast.

HUGH BRICKS