THE RABBITS ARE COMING
or Bunny's gonna get ya
An old woman stands by a road, waiting to cross as she leans lightly on her wheeled shopping bag for support. Traffic is constant, hissing farts of cars an ugly decoherent wall. Quietly, in the distance, a faint drumming begins, getting louder, throbbing, feeling like a tortuous growl in the bowel. People stop, cars stop and windows wind
down. There is a scream from the far end of the road, the crest of a hill, a man ragged and cut staggers with punch drunk walk, breath gulping in rasping sighs. His eyes flicker upwards to the sky in supplication, begging for strength to speak.
"The rabbits are coming," he says, falling to the ground. The panic spreads amongst the listeners with an instant of thought, shouts, "The bunnies are here," "Rabbits!" and cars hit panicked reverse, people run, the street clears. The old woman looks around at all this and shrugs; she crosses the road.