The Rat Stall

Mom's Word

Hung Nguyen graduated from college a few years ago. He studied Computer Science because his mom had told him that it was where the money was. Hung was an only child, so it was a tad too difficult for him to stray from the path his mom laid out for him.

Not My Cup of Tea

Hung was a people pleaser. Saying no was a lot harder than agreeing and bailing at the last minute. He started his first term at HUST, the Hanoi University of Science and Technology. However, it didn't take long for him to realize that he was not cut out for writing code or debugging output on black, depressing screens, but he powered through anyway. Anything looked better than opposing the law — his mom’s word.

The World's Your Oyster

After graduation, Hung told himself he was now free of the curse of parental expectations. He did what he had to do to keep his mom happy, and he was then free to pursue his dream: opening a restaurant at the heart of Da Nang. He worked for a few years as a mediocre dev and stashed most of his salary in a high-yield savings account. As soon as Hung hit the $5,000 mark, he decided his days of working for others were over.

Entrepreneurship

Hung took a page (or two) from his days working as a developer. By no means was he great at the craft, but it at least taught him how to approach problems logically. Da Nang is a tourist-infested city, and he thought, what could be better to sell visitors than some good old Bánh Mìs? He made bank in the first few months of business, but as is the case with most businesses, the value of one's product erodes away as more competitors catch on.

Tailwind

Times were tough, and the competition was fierce. Hung found himself hardly breaking even. The market pressure piled on his fading experience as a developer (a career that may no longer be viable if this fails). At times, he contemplated jumping off the Ba Na Hills. The future looked bleak, but suddenly, he saw a rodent bite onto a piece of meat from the kitchen chute.

Cost Optimization

Hold up, hang on a minute, Hung said to himself. If I cut corners by capturing kitchen rats and feeding them to these oblivious, garbage-littering tourists, I could one-up the competition. Hung invested in high-grade rat traps, which put a dent in his cash flow; yet he was confident they would pay dividends in the long run. And weeks later, he had captured enough rats to begin the pork-to-vermin transition.

The Migration

Rat meat was gradually mixed with pork, and the Bánh Mìs were slowly becoming Bánh Chuột sandwiches. The money saved on pork meat made Hung hit profitability, and it felt good to win once again. Tourists thought it tasted unique and that it was the more authentic version of the local sandwich. "Finally, a Bánh Mì that doesn't taste like a tourist trap," chanted the happy customers.

Filthy Uniform

The business was booming, and a looming threat was the last thing on Hung’s mind, but little did he know: his fortune was about to change. A crooked cop paid the restaurant a visit for a little taste of "authenticity." Dung Nguyen could tell something was off with the sandwich the second he sank his teeth into it. "This is no pork," he told himself in Vietnamese. Dung is a food connoisseur, who has quite the discerning food palate. To say that he has had questionable meals in the past in pursuit of exotic tastes is an understatement.

Moral Bankruptcy For The Road

Dung, a cop well-trained in people profiling, looked at Hung dead in the eyes, and went, "This isn't pork, is it?" Hung panicked, and it showed. If Dung wasn't sure before, he was undoubtedly sure then. Mind you, Dung actually LOVED the sandwich. He even ordered two to-go. As for Hung, it goes without saying that he was flustered. Why the fuck would he order two more if he knew it wasn’t what the menu said?

Rat Lover Dung

Dung, you naive buffoon. It had been a few days since his encounter with the member of the police force. Just about when Dung was convinced "it was nothing," Hung returned to the restaurant, only this time he asked for a three-sandwich takeout. He then pulled Dung aside, and squeaked in his ears, mimicking the familiar rat sounds Dung is very much accustomed to, given the quadrupling order fulfillment rate. Dung froze in his tracks, not with confusion, but a wave of raw fear that washed over him. Dung was bipolar, a trait that showed in how he was methodically able to bad-cop good-cop Hung all by himself.

Extortion to No End

Hung was sure that Dung was onto him, and he was right. On his third visit, Dung not only ordered more sandwiches but also blackmailed him into offering the food free of charge, and he demanded that he throw in a cash sweetener. An extortion in broad daylight that Hung knew better than to refuse.

The Rat In Dung

Hung schemed day and night, searching for an answer. Whatever profit he was making was damn near lost on the free sandwiches and hush-money handouts. Suddenly, something clicked. Sometimes, you look for sophisticated solutions when a simpler, and more effective answer is sitting right under your nose: Hung decided to lace the next sandwich Dung ordered with rat poison. He laughed maniacally as he declared, "I will kill the rat in you, Dung." It made sense, and it also had a poetic ring to it.

D-day

It was time. Justice was about to be served. Dung made it to the restaurant. He saw Hung at the counter, and when the two made eye contact, Dung immediately felt that something was off. He could sniff anxious behavior from a mile away; he knew something was up and suspected that it might be dealt in the form of poison, for that was the most obvious outlet for revenge. However, Dung was no dim-wit: when he got his order of two sandwiches to-go and one to be had there, he demanded that Hung eat the sandwiches packed. As for himself, he thought Dung wouldn't dare lace the Bánh Mìs he was having at the restaurant, for it would implicate him if it kicked in onsite — the man loved his rats, and he was a daredevil.

Snap Trap Activated

Hung was scared shitless, or so he made it seem. What Dung did not realize was that Hung was already two steps ahead. The packed sandwiches were fine, but not the unsuspecting one he served Dung at the restaurant. Dung took the cash and left in haste. He thought it was wise to exit the area on the off-chance that the Bánh Mìs he forced Hung to eat were really poisoned. On the way home, Dung started retching and collapsed within seconds.