Read Online A Handicap of the Devil? by Allen Lyne - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Allen Lyne
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form of life."
Thumper looked up from her sniffing. “Our mother told us that. We're purebreds—not like you."
"Well, yes. I suppose you are."
"No suppose about it.” Bugs was slightly overdoing her haughty look.
"We were stolen,” said Thumper dramatically.
"Stolen?"
"Our mother told us that the man who sold us to you stole us. Our father and mother used to go in shows and win prizes and everything. If we'd stayed where we were born, we'd have gone in shows as well.” Thumper had finished her sniffing and now sat near Jonathan's feet.
"The man who stole us came over the fence one night. He opened up the cage we were in and stole our mother, our father and us. We were only two weeks old.” Bugs was staring intently, searching for Jonathan's reaction.
Thumper looked up at Jonathan. “We haven't got our papers. That's why we can't prove who we are or go in shows or anything."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know any of this. He seemed like such a nice man."
"He was a dill. Our mother and father were getting the wrong food. They're probably dead by now.” Bugs’ indignation was evident in her voice.
Thumper was slightly conciliatory. “That's one of the reasons we like you. You give us our proper dinner."
"We like you now, but we didn't always like you. We were only six weeks old when you took us away. We loved our mother.” Bugs was still indignant.
"We nearly died of grief.” Thumper had a catch in her voice.
Jonathan was wracked by guilt. “I'm sorry. Oh God, I'm so sorry."
"It's alright now. Maybe it could have been worse. You look after us real good.” Thumper's soft eyes were full of forgiveness.
Bugs was somewhat less kind to Jonathan's feelings. “God told us that we would inherit the Earth if people didn't improve."
"When did you talk to God?"
* * * *
It had happened on a Tuesday morning. The air was fresh and invigorating. The bunnies had been mooching around the backyard eating tidbits of grass and weeds. They had stopped feasting to play one of their survival games. This was the one where they tore around the backyard at full pace and then came to a dead stop. They then leapt high in the air from a standing start and turned 180 or 360 degrees before racing off again. Both bunnies had just leapt into the air in joy and clicked their heels on the side—they did this when they felt particularly happy—when all of a sudden a bright light appeared in a corner by the fence.
Bugs and Thumper stopped dead. Anything new was treated with deep suspicion until it proved benign. They looked at the light with their noses twitching. No smell came from that direction. That was a good sign, but didn't make it safe. Both were about to hop away, when a face appeared in the light. The face had an amused expression on it. A hand appeared and a finger beckoned to them to come.
They stood still for a moment, looking at the light, the face and the finger. Rabbits are curious—but cautious—beings. Then they heard strains of the most beautiful music they had ever heard. Both rabbits were classical music buffs. Whenever Jonathan played one of his “Great Arias” recordings on the CD player, they would both sit—listening in rapture—eyes closed and paws folded beneath them.
They cautiously moved towards the man, the light and the music.
He smiled more broadly and spoke in that irritating voice people sometime use to children and pets. It was high pitched and sounded as though he thought they were idiots. “Come on.... That's good girls. I've got some nice din-dins for both of you.... Come on."
Bugs and Thumper went because they wanted to find out where such beautiful music came from—and because of the mention of ‘nice dinner'—not because of the insipid voice the man put on. They moved into the arc of the light, and suddenly they were somewhere else.
The backyard disappeared. The grass, trees and shrubs they knew so well were gone. So was the house and everything familiar to them. The bunnies had only
Thumper looked up from her sniffing. “Our mother told us that. We're purebreds—not like you."
"Well, yes. I suppose you are."
"No suppose about it.” Bugs was slightly overdoing her haughty look.
"We were stolen,” said Thumper dramatically.
"Stolen?"
"Our mother told us that the man who sold us to you stole us. Our father and mother used to go in shows and win prizes and everything. If we'd stayed where we were born, we'd have gone in shows as well.” Thumper had finished her sniffing and now sat near Jonathan's feet.
"The man who stole us came over the fence one night. He opened up the cage we were in and stole our mother, our father and us. We were only two weeks old.” Bugs was staring intently, searching for Jonathan's reaction.
Thumper looked up at Jonathan. “We haven't got our papers. That's why we can't prove who we are or go in shows or anything."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know any of this. He seemed like such a nice man."
"He was a dill. Our mother and father were getting the wrong food. They're probably dead by now.” Bugs’ indignation was evident in her voice.
Thumper was slightly conciliatory. “That's one of the reasons we like you. You give us our proper dinner."
"We like you now, but we didn't always like you. We were only six weeks old when you took us away. We loved our mother.” Bugs was still indignant.
"We nearly died of grief.” Thumper had a catch in her voice.
Jonathan was wracked by guilt. “I'm sorry. Oh God, I'm so sorry."
"It's alright now. Maybe it could have been worse. You look after us real good.” Thumper's soft eyes were full of forgiveness.
Bugs was somewhat less kind to Jonathan's feelings. “God told us that we would inherit the Earth if people didn't improve."
"When did you talk to God?"
* * * *
It had happened on a Tuesday morning. The air was fresh and invigorating. The bunnies had been mooching around the backyard eating tidbits of grass and weeds. They had stopped feasting to play one of their survival games. This was the one where they tore around the backyard at full pace and then came to a dead stop. They then leapt high in the air from a standing start and turned 180 or 360 degrees before racing off again. Both bunnies had just leapt into the air in joy and clicked their heels on the side—they did this when they felt particularly happy—when all of a sudden a bright light appeared in a corner by the fence.
Bugs and Thumper stopped dead. Anything new was treated with deep suspicion until it proved benign. They looked at the light with their noses twitching. No smell came from that direction. That was a good sign, but didn't make it safe. Both were about to hop away, when a face appeared in the light. The face had an amused expression on it. A hand appeared and a finger beckoned to them to come.
They stood still for a moment, looking at the light, the face and the finger. Rabbits are curious—but cautious—beings. Then they heard strains of the most beautiful music they had ever heard. Both rabbits were classical music buffs. Whenever Jonathan played one of his “Great Arias” recordings on the CD player, they would both sit—listening in rapture—eyes closed and paws folded beneath them.
They cautiously moved towards the man, the light and the music.
He smiled more broadly and spoke in that irritating voice people sometime use to children and pets. It was high pitched and sounded as though he thought they were idiots. “Come on.... That's good girls. I've got some nice din-dins for both of you.... Come on."
Bugs and Thumper went because they wanted to find out where such beautiful music came from—and because of the mention of ‘nice dinner'—not because of the insipid voice the man put on. They moved into the arc of the light, and suddenly they were somewhere else.
The backyard disappeared. The grass, trees and shrubs they knew so well were gone. So was the house and everything familiar to them. The bunnies had only
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