An English In Kentucky


















May 3rd 2010    Tim Candler

    Nine weeks of rain in an afternoon has struck the Vegetable Garden.   Eggplant send questions my way, and I keep promising them a brighter future.  The Fawn Rabbit mingles with his grey cousins, and the Close Mocking Bird has taken a dislike to boy Bluebirds.  And all these are ordinary things.

    There is however a lonely Bad Rabbit whose role it is to make me run around in the evening and then again in the morning.  While other Rabbits run away, he lurks close to the Vegetable Garden and pretends not to see me, so that I might practice stalking.   When I get close he hops ten yards and then perfectly still he stares at me a while, as other more sensible Rabbits cheer him on.

    This is infuriating.   So I have at him with a sudden dash, and he hops twenty yards away from me.  Round and round we go until we are back by the Vegetable Garden at the same spot where I first saw him.  He happy with his clover, me wondering why my temples throb and wondering why I can see little red spots across the horizon. 


    Inevitable at my age to embark upon a good crusade.  No longer is it about trying new things, rather it is about surrendering.   And here I have concluded that this Bad Rabbit and I have much in common.  He refuses to be intimidated and one day it will kill him.   I have smoked cigarettes for forty five years and those little red spots across the horizon hint at the penalty of a painful death in store for me. 

    Like a Bad Rabbit I sneer at the saintly, and I am bold when I dare anyone to make me concede.   And yes I'll use nicotine gum, foul moods, intolerance and considerable sneakiness, and probably my remaining days will be Bad Rabbit lonely.     

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