We named him Rocky

So around the Fourth of July, Rocky walked casually into our apartment because we often leave the porch door wide the eff open, white-trash style like everyone else in the neighborhood.

Rocky looked at us, paused, and decided to find an easier way to come into the ol' apartment. Oh. And we started keeping the door shut all the damn time.

So this morning, Ol' Sick Stomach woke up to the sound of someone breaking into his apartment. We walked into the living room, and there's Rocky, sticking his snout through a small hole in the screen. "Shoo," we said. "Shoo."

And then we shut the storm window.

We like Rocky. But he is kind of a, well, rodent.