Rat Motel emerged in 2016 with astounding elegance and ease for a structure of its size. The building settled in a single cacophonous bristle. When Old Man Winkle retired to the master suite for the last time there was a brief but violent power struggle, quelled by the reign of the brothers Peacock. (The rats, though indelibly embittered by this conclusion, were nonetheless satisfied that none of their fellows had triumphed.) In a fit of existential dread, unendearing arrogance, and a desperate yearning for eternity, a lofty aspect of the Motel rechristened itself “THE” Rat Motel, though the lower being refuses to carry the pretenses of this definite article as it ventures out into the world. It is what it is and that is enough. But try as The Rat Motel might to manifest the mad speculation of Zeno, the fact remains that Zeno was wrong. The infinite sum of one half raised to the power of “n” is indeed equal to one; the hare will overtake the tortoise; and even THE Rat Motel, which towers below the universe with grinning pride, will one day crumble into THE dust of The Empty Plane with a predictable lack of elegance and ease.