Example #9, what the hell in Examples of flashs past

He reconstructed rabbits with a forty of OE and some pliers and some used bunny parts he had laying around the apartment. Once as a kid he was scared by a Gumby toy, ran and hid in the garage attic of a neighbor’s home. The wood was rotted and he fell through and dented the hood of a classic 63 jaguar XKE. It was then that he knew he wouldn’t be a cop or a fireman or a rock star when he grew up.

He went to college for a while, didn’t learn much about rabbits. He did meet a girl, she had a dual major; Woman’s Studies and African American studies. He asked her if the BS would make her a black woman and so she slept with him and told all her friends that he fucked like a racist and a sexist. All her friends were sociology majors too and so he figured it didn’t really affect him all that much.

He met some other girls too and he sold beer and cigarettes and beef jerky at the plaid pantry. He had a checkered sweater and three pairs of blue jeans and a beat to shit Stetson that he picked up at a garage. The guy had died in his hat and so the old lady sold it at a garage sale.

He told the recruiting officer that he had experimented with drugs when he was younger, and the recruiting officer commended him on his honesty. When he answered the same regarding homosexuality and this name and address the recruiting officer quit commending him. By the time he was kicked out of the office he had drank three free cups of bad coffee. He was told that the US Army had no use for the likes of him.

He did a few days in the drunk tank, a few more in county for various dumb shit. He bought a trench coat and his own brown paper bag and he’d sit in the park, drinking, and hoping some woman would sit down next to him and play the bassoon. If someone ever had done that he would have said

“Hey what’s the deal with the bassoon?” and she’d say something witty back and he would fall in love.

He knew he shouldn’t sleep, that in his sleep he was disassembled and reconstructed as a rabbit, but he had learned how not to care. And so he slept. He dreamed once of a woman with red hair, but he woke up when the clock radio played English Beat. There was a bumper sticker on the radio, it read “Have a lovely Salad.”

He’s not dead, nor is he doing anything much of interest. He reconstructs rabbits and thinks how much one day is just like another.