Walking With Rabbits

Rabbit. Small, furry, farts Maltesers. Occasionally finds itself inside a piece of fancy old head-wear. Does not commonly smoke cigars.

Unless you’re where I am, it seems. No wonder Eeyore was depressed all the time. When your best friend is hooked on puffing smoke into the air like some sort of biological steam engine, you tend to develop a pretty bleak outlook on things. Unless you’re a rabbit. I’m surprised their planet even had an ozone layer, to be quite honest.

But that’s not the weirdest thing about Rabbit Land. It’s all pretty darn weird. They seem nice enough, though. Considering how we treat rabbits on Earth, I’m kinda surprised to be at a bar, drinking tequila with the locals. They don’t seem to mind that I’m on my stomach. The tequila here tastes a lot like carrot. I can’t imagine many things don’t taste of carrot on a planet full of rabbits.

Oddly enough, they speak English in Rabbit Land. I’m not quite sure how this happens. I don’t really want to find out, though. So long as they keep my “tab” open, I’m only too happy to pretend that I’m watching a kid’s movie*.

Rabbit man is enjoying himself, too. He seems to enjoy pointing at things with a metal stick. Don’t ask me what this actually does. The end lights up and it makes a weird noise. That’s it. It delights rabbit man to no end, though. He’s been doing it all day. Can’t get enough of pointing at things, muttering phrases like “Oh that’s interesting.” and “Now why is that I wonder?” and “Oh well that’s just brilliant.” I’m starting to wish I had one, just to see what all the fuss is about.

The rabbits don’t mind it. He’s promised to let them inspect his hat thoroughly before leaving. That cheered them up. They were giving him some very dirty looks when we first arrived. It was, I guess, probably like witnessing the arrival of some intergalactic child catcher. They’re fine now, though. I think tequila works rather well on them. Tobacco certainly doesn’t.

One of them asked me where I’m from. With hindsight, replying “Earth” wasn’t the best idea; they now look at me like I’m some kind of root vegetable. The rabbit with a tattoo of Keanu Reeves on it’s shoulder drools every now and then, until it remembers it’s supposed to be serving me.

Come to think of it, a lot of them do that now. Y’know, the whole drooling-without-realizing-you’re-doing-it-shebang. It’s almost threatening, I guess.

Right until one of them has to know the time**.


*The no.1 rule in a kid’s movie being: do not question how they speak. They just do. No argument. It’s a lot like religion, in that sense.

**No matter how often you see it, a rabbit pulling out a pocket-watch is hilarious. At least according to Womble.


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