“Are you dumb?”

Kelly blinks blankly at the older woman in line behind her. Stammers trying to think of a clever retort.

“Are you dumb?” The lady repeats stepping forward.

Kelly is anxious. She’s never been in a bodega before. In Ohio, they had to make their own sandwiches and no one had heard of a bacon egg and cheese.

She looks to cook for help. “Look,” he says in a thick Brooklyn accent, “You gotta make a choice: mayo no mayo.”

Kelly can’t seem to find her voice. She looks at the cat lounging on the cups of Maruchan instant ramen and telepathically says “help me.”

The dignified tabby looks at her inquisitively before responding “Yes, I will help you, Rat King. You must fulfill the prophecy.”

The tabby rears back on his hind legs and pounces onto the rude woman’s face.

Kelly runs out of the bodega, into the bright and bustling streets of Bed Stuy. The pigeons coo in admiration as they watch the true Rat King of New York City stumble toward her destiny.