Dumb Bunnies

Written by David A. Brooks

Hi kids. It’s been a while so I thought I’d check in with yet another demented bedtime story, taken straight from court and delivered to you. I can never resist an animal related fact pattern. This one’s for all the hunters and weapons enthusiasts in the room.

George owns a ranch on a large rural property, and keeps a number of very expensive horses and cattle. He uses the critters as an excuse to take a humongous tax write off, declaring himself a breeder of both bovine and equine exotica. George became aware that jackrabbits had gotten out of control on his property when not one but two of his animals were injured after stepping into rabbit holes, one horse badly enough it had to be put down. George became determined to exterminate the fuzzy tailed little rat-cousins. That’s why George asked his old friend Bob over for a little shootin’ contest.

George is a man who likes his comforts. He always outfits his guests with top of the line shootin’ hardware; and has a penchant for Orvis shooting vests that look more appropriate when politely hunting partridges or pheasants at a private club.

Bob is a good enough sort of guy. He’s known George for years. The difference between George and Bob is that while George is concerned about things like tax write-offs, everything Bob ever touched has turned into warm runny poo. George has the Midas touch; while Bob has the touch of the Roto-Rooter man or an unhygienic proctologist.

George greeted Bob with the customary 5th of bourbon. Kids, nothing says “Real American” as much as alcohol and firearms. George and Bob are nothing if not patriotic. After knocking a few back, they decided to make it interesting. They’d hunt rabbits with handguns, and shots had to be made after drawing from the holster.

Rabbits were more than plentiful when George and Bob lurched onto the killing field at dusk. It was a bunny blood bath. Each killed a dozen or more of the cute little vermin. Bob decided to take the largest of the rabbits back to the ranch for dinner (tastes like chicken; not bad fried with dumplings on top). He placed the rabbit in the back pocket of his game vest, and scanned for more targets. He saw a rabbit stick up his head, again drew his pistol, and brought it to bear on his intended victim.

It was right about then that the rabbit in the game pouch woke up. It turns out that the rabbit was merely stunned for a while, and when it came to it wanted OUT of that game bag. It began to rapid fire kick Bob in the middle of Bob’s back with everything it had.

Bob was startled. Even without bourbon on board, it would have been most disconcerting to have your dinner wake up all of a sudden. Bob shrieked, and accidentally squeezed off a few rounds as he turned to- wards whatever was attacking him from the back.

George’ll be OK. Bob’s stray bullet went through the fleshy part of his left bicep, and he was only kept in the hospital overnight. Bob wasn’t so lucky. A round hit him in the neck; but he was life-flighted out and the surgery saved his life. The cops (and subsequent air ambulance) arrived when an 88 year old neighbor on the adjoining ranch dialed 911. He was watching TV when a bullet entered his home via the wall, lodging just above his head in a well-worn (or “broken in”, depending on your perspective) Lazy Boy recliner. It’s unclear whether additional shots were fired, but no other rounds were accounted for.

Bob was charged with the negligent discharge of a firearm, three counts, all felonies. George was charged with the same, as an aider and abettor. They decided to take misdemeanor offers, in part because they received a promise that they didn’t have to do any time. They lost their guns, can’t have firearms as a probation term, and will have to take up bow hunting if they want to engage in blood sport. The elderly neighbor got a new Lazy Boy out of the deal.

Personally, I’m worried. George has been out shopping for cross-bows. He figures those bunnies don’t stand a chance.

What’s that? You, the tender hearted soul in the back; what did you ask? Oh, you want to know what happened to the wounded rabbit. Well, the rabbit was still in the game pouch when Bob was taken to the hospital. Bob’s bloody clothes were cut off of him before he was loaded into the chopper, and the clothes were placed in a bag for delivery with Bob. The flight nurse must have been in a real hurry, because the rabbit was still in the pouch when the officer opened the bag at the hospital so he could examine the evidence. (Good thing he found the bunny. That would have been one VERY smelly evidence locker in a few days.) The officer, a notorious vegetarian, was certainly not going to harm the rabbit further. The rabbit was delivered to a local vet, who treated its wound and set it free. I say it deserved to live. It certainly got the better of Bob, and in some ways proved to be the superior creature.

Kids, if you are out hunting with your mom or dad, and you notice them drawing a bead on a rabbit with a preexisting head trauma, don’t let them pull the trigger. That rabbit’s been through enough already.

Good night kids. I’ve got the light.
Uncle David