The Perils of Possum Point is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between persons, organisations or events described here and actual persons, organisations or events is purely unintentional.

The Day of the Bunny

The Easter Season had come to Possum Point, and all was quiet and serene. The breeze was crisp with the approach of autumn, and the sky was a deep blue. There was a hint of festivity in the air, as folks prepared for the annual bunny shoot. Rabbits had multiplied immensely during the preceding months, causing great havoc to the vegetation. Native flora and fauna were in trouble. The conservationists were adamant, and so the word went out "shoot a bunny and be a friend to all things green and natural!"

Meanwhile, Ned was attending to the needs of his tiny vegetable plot. It was mainly overgrown with weeds, but, since Ned couldn't distinguish between weeds and vegetables, he happily cultivated them both. He did have some ideas-the thing with the stinging thorns was a weed, he surmised, as was, most probably, the thing that looked like a very large dandelion.

John stopped by, his dog glubglub in tow. Glubglub, a small yet overachieving young animal, proceeded to dig a large hole somewhere near the potatoes, spraying dirt all over the garden and whining uncontrollably.

"Do you want a rabbit, because I can get you a rabbit," said John, "or, really, glubglub can, 'cause he's always chasing rabbits, and then I can skin it for you, and everything, and you can have a barbecue or something, with the rabbit."

"Well, not just now, thank you," responded Ned.

"Yes, we'll take glubglub up into the bush and he'll get himself a rabbit, and I may not even have to get out of the car, he'll just take off out the window and chase one down, just like that."

"Betcha he will," said Ned.

"Well, gotta get going so that they don't run out of rabbits before I get there," said John," and we're off".

There was the sharp report of a gun in the distance.

Ned filled the hole, and sighed.

A while later, Jason stopped by. He and his wife Sara, and Mavis Gromlin from down the road were all packed into an aging Range Rover filled with hampers and blankets and chairs and what not. "We're off to see the bunny hunt," called Jason. "Want to come along?"

"Sounds tempting," said Ned, thinking otherwise, "but, I've a few things to do."

"Allright, then catch you later, called Jason."

"Bye," said Sara.

"Tallyho" called out Mavis, enthusiastically.

They zoomed off in a cloud of blue smoke.

Ned finished his garden chores and retired inside, where he fired up his computer system. He dialed up the Internet and logged onto the Web site of a suicide cult in California. "Ho-humm" he said to himself. They seemed to believe that aliens were about to descend and take them into outer space. The alien looked much like a bunny rabbit, Ned thought. Perhaps a mysterious race of earless bunnies had brought civilization to the earth. Then, might not Easter be the residue of an ancient ceremony addressing the wisdom of the bunny? Ned began to doze.

There was a sharp report in the distance, causing Ned to sit bolt upright. This was followed in a few minutes by glubglub zooming past Ned's cottage, yapping loudly, in full pursuit of a rather large rabbit. He was followed by John, who was cursing so continuously that it sounded like a single very large and expressive word with lots of syllables.

The Range Rover popped up over a hill in the distance with a low roar and a cloud of blue smoke, Madge yelling out "Ye-Haw". An old Holden bounced along close behind, and, behind that was a stripped down Volkswagon.

Still half asleep, Ned rolled out of his cottage. "Save the bunny," he cried out. "The Bunny has come from beyond to teach us…"

For a moment, there was silence. Someone called out "The rabbit's been caught." and it was repeated "The rabbit's been caught." and "Rabbit caught." Then, everyone switched direction and charged off the other way.

Some time later, Ned visited Trevor McGill at his cottage, the Garden of Paradise and Earthly Delights. He and Trevor sat on cushions on the floor, listening to boogie-woogie on Trevor's excellent stereo system at low volume.

"Bunnies, eh?" asked the holy man.

"Sacred bunnies," said Ned.

"But they're all dead, right?"

"Yup. Dead."

"And the bunnies?"

"Dunno…on a comet or something."

"Well", said Trevor, leaning back and meditating for a moment. A puff of incense arose from the bronze Buddah on top of the stereo set. "The Californians are full of shit," he intoned.

"I see." replied Ned, listening attentively to this weighty advice.

Ned returned home in time to watch the Easter Egg Hunt on the Common. The broken eggs had created a yellow slick, in which all of the local children were slipping and sliding with glee.

It began to grow dark and somewhere, a cow lowed. The waves could be heard rushing up the shore, and the last of the cannabis-seeking helicopters retreated home. A dog yowled. A neighbor cursed, and something was thrown. An entire flock of birds returned to its nests in the eves of Ned's cottage. And, in the back garden, if you listened closely enough, you could hear a billion insects munching upon every piece of greenery in sight.

 Copyright (c) 1996, 1997 Brian J. Dooley