Ali is a mountain of a man. Tall, muscular, well-trained. Despite being very polite, Ali believed that a man is the boss and a woman must obey. He lived his life according to that motto.

On Friday, Ali called the building caretaker to complain that there were rats in the garage and demanded that he come immediately to get rid of them. The caretaker was surprised, as he had never seen rats in the neighborhood before, but he did as asked and went straight to Ali’s garage. Ali pointed to droppings on the floor—there were quite a few. But they certainly weren’t from rats; they were far too small. The caretaker started looking for the pests, and Ali began to complain. According to Ali, it was the caretaker’s fault for not keeping better watch, allowing the pests to spread into his garage. It was clear that the small rodents had been feasting on items stored against the walls and had left teeth marks. The caretaker pointed out that it was forbidden to store any items in the garage—for fire safety reasons, he added. But Ali didn’t listen and kept whining.

No sign of a rat or even a mouse. Then the caretaker suggested that Ali open the hood of his car. Ali did as instructed, and it became obvious that something was living in the engine bay. Not only was the engine unusually dirty with some loose parts here and there, but some components had clearly been gnawed on. Ali began wailing loudly. The caretaker told him to be quiet and leaned closer to the engine. In the silence, he could hear a faint squeaking sound.

The caretaker said, “There seems to be a nest. Do you have some gloves?”

That’s when Ali lost it and screamed hysterically. He grabbed the caretaker’s biceps with both hands as if there were a tiger hidden in the engine bay. The caretaker shook Ali’s hands off—which wasn’t easy—and asked again for the gloves. Ali pulled himself together and handed over a pair of welding gloves.

“Don’t you have smaller gloves?” the caretaker asked.

“You need protection! Big gloves! What if they bite you?” Ali replied.

“Then you’ll have to get them yourself,” the caretaker retorted. “I can’t grab them with these gloves.”

Panic surged through Ali’s entire body, and he pleaded with the caretaker to do it for him. Then Ali brought out disposable plastic shoe covers, which the caretaker put on.

It didn’t take long before he retrieved a small nest from the engine bay, with tiny shrews no more than three centimeters in size. That was too much for Ali—he screamed so loudly, it posed a risk of hearing damage.

The caretaker sighed and carried the nest outside.

ENDING FOR HUMANITARIANS

The caretaker walked to the nearby forest and gently placed the intact nest under some sharp, dry conifer branches.

ENDING FOR BRUTALISTS

The caretaker threw the nest into the nearest compost bin.

Ali was exhausted and at the end of his rope. The engine was damaged, and Ali knew that repairs could be expensive. He also knew he didn’t have insurance for “marten damage”—he had only taken out liability and partial coverage to save money. He wanted to save a few francs on his premium, and after all, the car was parked in the garage. What could go wrong?

Another story could be written about how Ali heroically battled dangerous rats, as thick as his thigh, all alone in his garage. But then again, that’s another story.