Rabbit, rabbit, it's flash friday, my calender's broken and there's racoons in the silo in Flash Friday

  • July 27, 2017, 8:48 p.m.
  • |
  • Public

“It’s that thing that hollows out a man’s bones, howls in his ear, send to the holler with a bellyful of hard corn and an eye to the devil …”
“Wait, what thing?”
“Time. Sex. Money. That thing that scoops up and rolls down the grassy knoll. That thing that you use it all on and when the bill comes due you curse it with your last breath.”
“Oh. I have a bunny.”
“And?”
“She’s all white and fat.”
“Huh.”
“I’m not an idiot. I’m just saying I have a fat white bunny and I’m thinking you don’t. That either makes us exactly different or exactly same depending on how you look at it.”
“Like frittering away time, love, money, I get you, we wind up just as dead either way. Why is it you think I don’t have a fat white bunny?”
“Do you?”
“I could.”
“See, we’re exactly different — same as it ever was.”
“Aren’t you a little young to be digging up the talking heads?”
“Heh. If sex is the oldest profession I’m guessing the first interview of the first whore went something like ‘…same as it ever was.’”
“You ever punch a bunny?”
“God no, You?”
“I don’t have a bunny, right?”
“So, no domestic bunny abuse, but a lot of folks punch things that aren’t theirs, sometimes that’s why they punch em, because they aren’t theirs.”
“Pretty defensive for a rabbit pacifist.”
“You ever use the word holler before? Like to refer to a valley, not to yell?”
“How’d we get here?”
“I was just sitting here dying of time and sex and money and you came from wherever it is when you’re not here and pointed it out. There wasn’t any we a moment, not in the specific sense, in the general sense we’re all we. Where is it exactly that you are when you’re not here?”
“Indianapolis?”
“Ok.”
“When I’m not in Indianapolis, I’m home.”
“Well. There you have it. Nice to meet you. I’m here all week. Tip your waitress.”
“Fuck you.”
“Yeah. I’m supposed to be freaking you out, make you feel guilty about carrying money, maybe unburden some of it.”
“We’re all in a headlong race to the grave is how you ask for spare change?”
“Thought I’d give it shot.”
“How’s it working?”
“Don’t know yet, what have you got for me?”
“Half a bologna sandwich, bit too heavy on the mayo.”
“Poorly then, any construction criticism?”
“Yeah, avoid low brow philosophy with strange kids. And don’t take candy from them. You’re a rape whistle away from county time.”
“I noticed you were kid. Don’t you all write million user apps?”
“No.”
“Grownups write those things?”
“I guess.”
“Wow. Makes time and sex and money seem downright cheery.”
“Mr. I’m twelve. Money has always seemed cheery and I hear good things about sex, hear it’s worth the cooties.”
“You don’t even have a bunny do you?”
“have a nice day.”


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