Yick, The Rat Catcher of Shanghai

[my life is trash]

Yick sat in the dimly lit alley, the stench of rotting garbage mingling with the faint smell of cooking oil from a nearby street vendor. He clutched a skewer of grilled rats, the charred flesh a grim reminder of his desperation. 'This is it,' he muttered to himself, the arrogance that once fueled his delusions of grandeur now reduced to a hollow echo. Yick, a man who once boasted of conquering the world, now found himself at the mercy of China's unforgiving streets. His tailored suit, once a symbol of his supposed superiority, was now tattered and stained, a reflection of his plummeting fortunes. He took a bite of the rat, the bitter taste a stark contrast to the sweetness of his imagined success. 'Pathetic,' he hissed, spitting out a piece of gristle. 'Absolutely pathetic.'

Yick's days were spent wandering the streets, clutching a tattered resume, and his nights were filled with the sound of scurrying rats. He had developed a peculiar habit—eating rats. Not out of hunger, but out of defiance. 'If China won't give me success,' he thought, 'I'll take what I can get.'

One evening, as he sat in a dimly lit internet café, he stumbled upon the Happier Abroad forum. It was a community of expatriates sharing their experiences, seeking advice, and occasionally, tearing each other down. Yick, ever the opportunist, decided to post his story. 'How to succeed in China when you're a British failure?' he titled his post.

The responses were immediate. 'You're not cut out for this,' Kangarunner wrote. 'Go back to your mother's basement,' NPCSlammer chimed in. But one response caught his eye. It was from a user named Voyager1. 'You're worthless here,' Voyager1 wrote. 'China doesn't need your kind. Pack your bags and go home.'

Yick seethed. Who was this Voyager1 to tell him what to do? 'You're not just failing in China,' Voyager1 continued. 'You're failing at life. It's time to face the music.'

Yick's pride was wounded, but deep down, he knew Voyager1 was right. He had failed in Britain, and now, he was failing in China. The rats he ate every night were a reminder of his desperation. He couldn't even afford proper food, let alone the life of luxury he had envisioned.

With a heavy heart, Yick booked a ticket back to Britain. As the plane took off, he gazed out the window, watching as China faded into the distance. He thought about Voyager1's words and the rats he had grown accustomed to eating. 'Maybe,' he thought, 'it's time to stop chasing the world and start fixing myself.'

When he arrived home, Yick found himself standing in front of his mother's house. The basement was waiting for him, just as Voyager1 had suggested. But this time, he didn't feel ashamed. He felt... ready. Ready to face his failures, ready to change, and ready to leave the rats of Shanghai behind.

[Voyager1]

Yick sat in the dimly lit alley, the stench of rotting garbage mingling with the faint smell of cooking oil from a nearby street vendor. He clutched a skewer of grilled rats, the charred flesh a grim reminder of his desperation. 'This is it,' he muttered to himself, the arrogance that once fueled his delusions of grandeur now reduced to a hollow echo. Yick, a man who once boasted of conquering the world, now found himself at the mercy of China's unforgiving streets. His tailored suit, once a symbol of his supposed superiority, was now tattered and stained, a reflection of his plummeting fortunes. He took a bite of the rat, the bitter taste a stark contrast to the sweetness of his imagined success. 'Pathetic,' he hissed, spitting out a piece of gristle. 'Absolutely pathetic.'

Yick's days were spent wandering the streets, clutching a tattered resume, and his nights were filled with the sound of scurrying rats. He had developed a peculiar habit—eating rats. Not out of hunger, but out of defiance. 'If China won't give me success,' he thought, 'I'll take what I can get.'

One evening, as he sat in a dimly lit internet café, he stumbled upon the Happier Abroad forum. It was a community of expatriates sharing their experiences, seeking advice, and occasionally, tearing each other down. Yick, ever the opportunist, decided to post his story. 'How to succeed in China when you're a British failure?' he titled his post.

The responses were immediate. 'You're not cut out for this,' Kangarunner wrote. 'Go back to your mother's basement,' NPCSlammer chimed in. But one response caught his eye. It was from a user named Voyager1. 'You're worthless here,' Voyager1 wrote. 'China doesn't need your kind. Pack your bags and go home.'

Yick seethed. Who was this Voyager1 to tell him what to do? 'You're not just failing in China,' Voyager1 continued. 'You're failing at life. It's time to face the music.'

Yick's pride was wounded, but deep down, he knew Voyager1 was right. He had failed in Britain, and now, he was failing in China. The rats he ate every night were a reminder of his desperation. He couldn't even afford proper food, let alone the life of luxury he had envisioned.

With a heavy heart, Yick booked a ticket back to Britain. As the plane took off, he gazed out the window, watching as China faded into the distance. He thought about Voyager1's words and the rats he had grown accustomed to eating. 'Maybe,' he thought, 'it's time to stop chasing the world and start fixing myself.'

When he arrived home, Yick found himself standing in front of his mother's house. The basement was waiting for him, just as Voyager1 had suggested. But this time, he didn't feel ashamed. He felt... ready. Ready to face his failures, ready to change, and ready to leave the rats of Shanghai behind.

Don't forget he's headed off to Peru

[Voyager1]

Good writing. Almost as good as Tsar's

[yick]

You're just a pair of losers. One, a sex tourist and the other a failed sex tourist.

[my life is trash]

Don't forget he's headed off to Peru

Yick trudged through the narrow, muddy alleys of the Peruvian slum near his filthy shack, his worn-out boots sinking into the filth with every step. The air was thick with the stench of decay and the constant chirping of rats. He clutched his makeshift rat-catching contraption, a hodgepodge of wires and scraps he'd assembled from the local junkyard. This was his new beginning, or so he told himself. After failing miserably in China, where he'd resorted to eating rats just to survive, Yick had hoped Peru would be his redemption. But here he was, knee-deep in the same kind of filth he'd tried to escape.

The slum's residents eyed him with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. Yick's British accent and disheveled appearance made him an oddity. He tried to muster a smile, but the constant gnawing in his gut from the disease he'd contracted made it hard to pretend everything was fine. 'Voyager1 was right,' he muttered to himself, recalling the harsh words of the Happier Abroad poster. 'You're a failure, Yick. You'll never amount to anything.'

Determined to prove Voyager1 wrong, Yick set up his rat-catching operation in the slum. He named it 'El Ratonero'—The Rat Catcher. But his methods were laughable. Instead of traps, he used a crude vacuum made from an old plastic bottle and a broken blender. Instead of bait, he used scraps of food he'd found in the trash. It wasn't long before the rats outsmarted him, and word spread of his incompetence.

The locals began calling him 'El Ratonero Inútil'—The Useless Rat Catcher. They'd gather to watch him fail, their laughter echoing through the slum. Yick tried to ignore them, but the humiliation stung. One day, as he was packing up his useless contraption, a young boy approached him. 'Señor Yick,' the boy said, 'maybe you should try a different approach. The rats here are smarter than your tricks.'

Yick looked at the boy, then at the crowd of onlookers. For the first time, he saw the humor in his situation. Maybe he wasn't meant to be a rat catcher. Maybe he was meant to be something else. With a newfound determination, Yick closed up his operation and walked away, leaving the rats—and his failures—behind. The slum would always remember him as 'El Ratonero Inútil,' but Yick was ready to write a new chapter in his life.

[traveller]

If he does not yet live there, yick needs to move to Saudi Arabia. He would fit in perfectly in Saudi Arabia, especially in the capital city Riyadh.

[Winston]

@my life is trash

Please don't start threads like this just to bash someone with cheap rants that serve no good purpose. Next time you will be banned temporarily. Thanks. Threads like this pollute the forum and make it look bad.

[my life is trash]

@my life is trash

Please don't start threads like this just to bash someone with cheap rants that serve no good purpose. Next time you will be banned temporarily. Thanks. Threads like this pollute the forum and make it look bad.

Please don't act like a mentally retarded dumbass trying to censor my freedom of speech because in Canada we don't have free speech but on this forum we do so I'll post whatever the f**k I want about who I want. No offense but are you f***ing retarded? Yick insults people all the time and even lies about them there's a thread on this forum about Happier Abroaders wanting Yick banned and Prince of Cups made a heckling thread about me and calls Happier Abroaders mentally ill yet you don't give him a warning. You are not the boss here because this is a site for free men meaning you can't tell us what we can f***ing write so we don't have a f***ing boss. So I will make as many threads about Yick as I want so shut your f***ing mouth and don't tell me what I can write about you p***y.

Also this thread doesn't make the forum look bad, you do with your shitty posts where you talk to yourself and Jamesbond about old movies no one gives a f**k about anymore and retarded conspiracy theories about the earth being flat. You make yourself look stupid. In fact if it wasnt for good posters like me no one would even visit this shitty site so you should be f***ing paying me to even post here you cunt.

[Winston]

My life is trash, if Yick is insulting you too, then the solution is simple. If you stop insulting him then he will stop too. Very simple. These insulting threads are mud slinging without purpose and not as interesting as my posts, which make you think outside the box. Why should we have nasty insults here? No one wants that in their home, why would we?

[yick]

@Winston - just ban him! He'll just be back under another account anyway. We can't seem to get rid of the idiot.

[Winston]

@Winston - just ban him! He'll just be back under another account anyway. We can't seem to get rid of the idiot.

You are right. There's no choice since he refuses to behave and stop his flame wars and admitted as such. He is now banned. Whew. Good riddance.

[Prince of Cups]

@Winston - just ban him! He'll just be back under another account anyway. We can't seem to get rid of the idiot.

You are right. There's no choice since he refuses to behave and stop his flame wars and admitted as such. He is now banned. Whew. Good riddance.

Good riddance to him.

[Prince of Cups]

@Winston - just ban him! He'll just be back under another account anyway. We can't seem to get rid of the idiot.

You are right. There's no choice since he refuses to behave and stop his flame wars and admitted as such. He is now banned. Whew. Good riddance.

Maybe @Voyager1 deserves a ban too. I see you've already given him a final warning, but this guy doesn't seem to take you seriously.

[yick]

@Winston - just ban him! He'll just be back under another account anyway. We can't seem to get rid of the idiot.

You are right. There's no choice since he refuses to behave and stop his flame wars and admitted as such. He is now banned. Whew. Good riddance.

Cheers! @Winston !