You may recall that yesterday, I was able to photograph a concrete rabbit that lives in our front yard beneath some bushes. I felt that we had made some kind of connection, so I went back today with the idea to interview the rabbit to learn more his life.
Reporter: It’s nice to see you again. We’d like to get a more intimate photo of you for our second feature. Is that alright?
Rabbit: I suppose that would be OK. You know, I came here for the solitude. I have mixed feelings about this.
Reporter: How is that?
Rabbit: Didn’t you say you’d bring some celery? I have literally spent years staring at this exact same patch of undergrowth. I could tell you everything about the hopes and dreams of the heather, over there, sitting quietly (much like I used to do before you came along). I could share the deepest secrets of those red poppies over there, but I won’t, because, well, not only do they deserve their privacy, but they already get a lot of bad press. Why blame the poppies? It’s the drug people who do all the bad things.
Reporter: So you feel that we’ve interrupted your privacy.
Rabbit: More like invaded.
Reporter: Invaded.
Rabbit: What is this, some kind of counseling session?
Reporter: I was just trying to encourage you to share something about your life.
Rabbit: That photo you took looks like a mug shot. It’s way to personal. I hope you don’t use it.
Reporter: Actually, you look kind of angry. Are you angry? How do you feel about the dirt here? Is it good quality, or isn’t it actually kind of dry and crumbly, and does that make you angry?
Rabbit: It’s dirt, you dumb dipshoot.
Reporter: You know, if you would cooperate we could make you famous.
Rabbit: Make me famous? You have what, two people who follow this blog. What makes you think they even care about you, or me?
Reporter: It’s not important how many followers I have. I’m a writer; I’m used to rejection. I write for the love of writing.
Rabbit: That better be true, because actually, I’m on the lam; I stole some lettuce from one of your neighbors before I came here. I heard the police car and I ran like—
Reporter: You’re a concrete rabbit. You can’t run, you can’t hop…
Rabbit: Yeah, you and me, we got some similarities. You don’t have any friends; I don’t want any friends, you see what I mean? Now get out of here; you’re letting all the heat in and I want to relax in the cool shade.
Reporter: Alright, that wraps up our interview with the friendly rabbit who snuggled down here among the herbs and bushes.
Rabbit: You overly romantic jerk. That’s it; get out of here. We don’t like your kind. You think we weren’t here before all this suburban housing and lawns went in? I got the munchies. Skedaddle, move on, before I tell the raccoons about you; they’d like to raid those bird feeders of yours.
Reporter: We’ve got a dog who chases—
Rabbit: You’ve got a f*^cking DOG here? Why, I oughta…
Reporter: He stays on the other side of that fence there.
Rabbit: You scared the scat out of me, human. Just…get out. You’ve hurt my feelings again.
Reporter: Sorry.
Rabbit: You got any, funny lettuce on you? I could use a toke or two. It’s lonely here…
Reporter: For National Rabbit Radio, this is your correspondent signing off.
lol.