On the way home from the liquor store—Albertsons' is inexplicably closed, so it's Ed McMahon's Perfection and a Giant Slim Jim for dinner tonight—I heard the unmistakable sounds of a scrum in the bushes to my left. Peering over the flowering hedge, I saw a snake cornering a bunny in the gutter. I brandished Ed McMahon to no effect. I chunked a Giant Slim Jim. Snake and bunny remained locked in a diaromic display of Nature's red teeth and claws. I had no choice. No bunny dies on my watch. I grabbed a stick and entered the fray.
The snake slithered away. The bunny scuttled, stopped, turned to me almost appreciatively, then scooted away. As I stood gasping against Blockbuster's faux-stucco exterior, I had a Rashomon-moment:
My sympathies had been with the bunny from the first. I never even considered the possibility that the bunny had been the aggressor. An inveterate squamataphobe, I couldn't be bothered to give the snake the slightest benefit of the doubt. He could've been slithering along, minding his own snake-business when Peter "The Scale-Snapper" Cottontail came bounding out the bushes, murder on his mind. Maybe I missed the gang of feral rabbits hunkered in the brush, eagerly awaiting the signal to strike. Then I remembered:
I intervened. Presided over a motherfucking intervention. Right or wrong, it matters not: I did my academic duty.
Did you consider, as you prepared to chow down on your dehydrated beef stick, that you were depriving a hungry snake of its hard-earned bunny dinner? You bleeding heart liberals are all the same. Hypocrites, the lot of you!
Posted by: Stephen | Wednesday, 04 July 2007 at 09:09 PM
So what did you end up having for dinner?
Posted by: Belle Lettre | Wednesday, 04 July 2007 at 11:14 PM
As the proud father of two bouncing bunnies, I can assure you that the rabbit was not the aggressor. Fans of *Donnie Darko* and Svankmeyer's *Alice* be damned, bunnies always have good intentions. If anything, the rabbit may have been trying to incorporate the snake into its warren. Rabbits are very federal and communistic in that way. When our three cats frolic with our two bunnies, the bunnies are in charge. They corrale the kitties like sheep dogs sheep.
Posted by: Luther Blissett | Thursday, 05 July 2007 at 05:18 AM
"Some things in life you can't control. The vodka you drink isn't one of those things."
Tell that to Ollie Reed's liver.
Posted by: Ginger Yellow | Thursday, 05 July 2007 at 08:22 AM
They corrale the kitties like sheep dogs sheep
I can't help but read this sentence and be reminded of this one:
Buffalo buffalo buffalo.
Posted by: Karl Steel | Thursday, 05 July 2007 at 08:51 AM
I should also say that I'm reminded of a key scene in Chretien de Troyes' Yvain in which our knight, coming across a dragon and a lion fighting in a forest clearing, hesitates, filled with fear and wonder, while he tries to determine on whose side he should intervene. He chooses the lion, and the lion, in gratitude, performs the gestures of fealty and becomes Yvain's companion (hence the other title of the romance, Chevalier au Lyon.
Would that your bunny had folded its precious little paws together too! Then you could brave the world together!
Posted by: Karl Steel | Thursday, 05 July 2007 at 10:28 AM
I dislike bunnies ever since a roommate had one as a pet -- disgusting non-housetraineable creatures. I would've helped the snake. For that matter, if I saw a lion and dragon fighting, and felt the need to intervene, I would've helped the dragon. I mean, lions are relatively ordinary.
Posted by: Rich Puchalsky | Thursday, 05 July 2007 at 10:40 AM
You lizardophile, Rich.
Posted by: Adam Roberts | Thursday, 05 July 2007 at 02:28 PM
Karl - we medievalists must be genetically linked in some way - that scene from Yvain was the first thing I thought of as well! Scott, I'm glad you intervened on the side of fluff (and that's just my personal predilection) - and if that bunny behaves true to form, I think you've won an ally. The next time you find yourself cornered in a dark alley by anything - be it wildebeest or lemming - I think you can expect your little cottontail to make an appearance and open up a can of whoop-ass...
Posted by: Medieval Woman | Friday, 06 July 2007 at 10:19 AM
http://icanhascheezburger.files.wordpress.com/2007/07/attack.jpg
Posted by: Rebecca | Friday, 06 July 2007 at 01:59 PM
Sorry the other comment reposted itself several times. But, the bunny could have been the one deprived of a nice snake stew for dinner:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hSPIR3pclYw
Posted by: Rebecca | Friday, 06 July 2007 at 02:16 PM
Karl - we medievalists must be genetically linked in some way
I'm your sister. (?) Or maybe your child, all Brood like.
Posted by: Karl Steel | Friday, 06 July 2007 at 05:25 PM
Dear god - I thought you looked familiar! (wink). I love any movie where the keywords are: "Midget/Psychiatry/Experiment/Serial Killer/Mutant"...
Posted by: Medieval Woman | Friday, 06 July 2007 at 08:17 PM
You have always had a soft spot for furry creatures. As a child,the story goes, you wanted to play outside with the cute bears on our front lawn - in Canada - you did not understand that where little furry creatures could be found, big furry creatures might not be far behind or in this case a snake that wanted a bunny for dinner.
Posted by: alkau | Friday, 13 July 2007 at 01:41 PM