Night of the Lepus
The Hassenpfeffer of late summer
(From 1993.)
The rabbit died—no, not that rabbit. Old Peter Cottontail crawled up next to our woodpile on the fence line and croaked. In the heat of the sultry southern Indiana summer, Rabbit stiffened up and began to stink when my husband discovered him.
My husband came inside to tell me of Bugs’ departure from this earth. Bugs and his friends had been bothering us all summer, trampling and eating our pink geraniums to our dismay but to the delight of our three-year-old son. Our son liked to stalk the bunnies in the backyard.
But this was a dead bunny, and my spouse was not about to move Thumper to his final resting place.Neither was I.
As I work at a hospital, my partner thought I should throw Flopsy over the fence, claiming I was more clinical. That’s a stretch – one does not scrub in to do marketing.
The husband said, “Let’s call M.D. for a ruling.” Our most ardent feminist friend, M.D., has a strong opinion on all issues related to male-female relationships.
She said, “Whoever discovered the dead rabbit in the yard is responsible for removal. It is not a gender issue.”
While the spouse and I continued to argue about the disposal, Roger Rabbit was fermenting and increasingly ready for removal.
Finally, the husband agreed and removed the body. With all the ceremony a large shovel can signify, he threw the corpse over the fence into the woods.
Calm returned to the heartland. We finished our Saturday chores and readied ourselves for a night of cable television. Flipping channels, we found “Night of the Lepus” on TNT. Jackrabbits, multiplying in droves, take over a Texas town.
Shudder to think: are there others?
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Please restack. Your comments are welcome.
So, I am not the only person in the world who has seen Night of the Lepus. I seem to remember they grew really really large too