What I told Eleanora Pearline Tomasa Billy-Lea was the same thing I told Cloyd—that plain and simple it wasn’t quite the massive problem she was making it out to be, that the straight of it was, rabbits didn’t need pose the same kind of threat to her sanity’s she thought they did. Wasn’t easy, what with Eleanora P.T.B-L. not speakin English proper, but I think I just about got through to her. It was popular understanding in the neighborhood that the long-eared sexmachines pretty much obsessed Eleanora P.T.B-L. and were in her eyes some kind of lèse majesté, to the best of her mental conception. I said, look, they might eat your veggies but they’re not gonna break down your door. But, like I previously broke the news to you, Eleanora didn’t quite understand English, not in any real useful way. So’s like talking to a brick wall. I pantomimed a bit, lookin like I was a rabbit free and easy and not breaking down her door. Ellie (I’ll call her that, so as to not unduly try your tolerance for repetition and all) spoke real slowly and even wrote out her words for me, but it’n just looked a bunch of chickenscratchings anyway, not much use to me. Ellie had like her own private language, not one anyone else could’ve understood anyway. But when she drew a rabbit, crudely as she did, it was still pretty obviously apparent what her intention was, the two-eared hoppin critter just about decapitated on her sheet of paper, its head lopped off with what could’ve been either a machete or a bread knife. She went and left the room and when she came back had with her a pitcher of something like orange juice and a red marker, what she used to finish her work of art. The red marker pretty well made her intentions clear, the rabbit’s death not so much in question. As I came to understand it, her interest was the rabbits dead and buried, if not dead’n burnt. And she wanted me to do it.

Related posts:

1. Rappitz (Part II)
2. Rappitz (Part V)
3. Rappitz (Part III)
4. Rappitz (Part VI) – The Epic Conclusion
5. Rappitz (Part IV)