He lay down on the cool leaves next to the yellow outline made by the police of Joey Watkins. He could hear the Simpson Boys getting closer, and wondered if they would just plunge in and drag him out. He began to imagine the things they would do. They had done Indian burns, nuggies and chokes on him before, in the stairwell at school. There was also that time behind the shelter at the bus stop, when they beat him with a telephone book, saying that’s how the police did it, so that no one could see the marks, and that they were the ‘Kid Police’.
He could hear the voice of Alex Simpson clearly, “We gonna kill you bitch juz like Uncle Otis kilt that pothead up in here!”
He was afraid, very much afraid. He thought he heard them snooping on the edge of the crime scene, now his hiding place. Druze piped up, “Yo Alex, you think dis nigga hidin’ or makin’ like a rabbit en bouncin’ off up da way?”
Alex seemed in command and self-assured, “Oh dis nerd too much of a mammy’s boy ta creep around where a dead body were. Lez ged up da way.”
Mali then said in his squeaky voice, “Think he doubled back down da stream yo?”
“No yo, he ain’ got no wind, no balls, en no place ta go. Dis niցցer in here—en we ain’ leavin’ da park till dark less we fine his ass and leave him in da weeds yo—lez go up da way, scour dis joint yo. We findin’ his ass, en if we don’ we sweepin’ back down this way, weed by muvafucin’ weed!”
He heard them spread out and pickup sticks and start beating the bushes along the footpath. He wanted to know where they were, maybe make a run for it if he could see their position. He no longer had a book-bag to slow him down. He began to raise his head to get a look.
What are you doing you stupid idiot?
Had he heard that, really?
He raised his head to get a look at the voice and it came again, into his head, a kind of voice, like if a ghost could whisper to you from inside, Look stupid, do you mind not giving away my hiding place. It’s bad enough that you almost squashed me when you flopped down.
“Where are—”
Shut up! Are you kidding me? How stupid can one nerd be? Look around, without flopping over, making noise, groaning, or popping up your big funny looking head. I’m right behind you to your right.
Tamar looked over his left shoulder and saw nothing but weed tops and tree trunks and vines, and an old beat-up shopping cart hanging from a vine.
“Where you—”
Oh I can see that you suffer from a terminal case of stupidity. No wonder you are about to get eliminated from the gene pool before you get a chance to reproduce. If I had more networking opportunities, I would not even make an effort here. I would just let those punks have you. Now, you get one more chance to earn my assistance—and let me tell you dumbass, you need it. Look down, about twenty degrees or so.
Tamar looked down until his own rear-end was just in his line of sight. Next to his skinny little butt was a rabbit, a white rabbit, like the kind you saw at the pet store, not a wild rabbit.
“No way!”
Yes way you fucking idiot and don’t speak in my hiding spot again. Have some respect, and address me telepathically like I do with you. Really, is that so much to ask?
You know, being a rabbit totally sucks. It sucks so bad that we have had to develop telepathy to communicate because we are basically completely helpless.
Okay Milk Dud, just think at me, a thought, one thought, any thought.
Tamar squinted his eyes and concentrated; confident that if a small-brained rabbit could project his thoughts than he could, My name is Tamar, not Milk Dud, and who are you?
Okay Tamar—is that Moslem, a made up ghetto name, or something your mother picked out of a reality TV guide? Besides, I said one thought and you projected two-point-five. Have you always been so stupid?
Tamar was becoming angry. He had been picked on all of his life, and now some tiny rabbit was doing it. He turned in the weeds and sat up, regarding the mean little rabbit. The rabbit then hunched down lower and slicked its ears back, and his mind was on fire with rabbit invective. Oh fuck me you douche bag! You trying to get me killed asshole? What is your malfunction? Get the fuck down.
Tamar was so shocked by the cuss words pouring into his head that he obeyed the rabbit and lay silently while the Simpson’s beat the weeds and made their way farther up the trail. He then decided to assert himself.
Okay, Mister Rabbit, I will, from now on, take your advice and do as you say in all things pertaining to survival. But, I would rather die than have someone cuss into my mind. You have to clean up your language. I don’t want that swear word mess in my brain.
He felt the rabbit sniffing his hand with its little button nose, and looked to see the ears pop up and swivel like radar dishes. Okay kid, no telepathic profanity—and you mind the survival laws that I have abided by for my short harrowing life.
Tamar thought, Deal.
The rabbit’s thoughts then came to him, Deal kid, and to his surprise the little white bunny hopped up on his chest and looked down into his face, with only one eye, kind of sideways. They’re gone kid, up the trail.
Tamar was grateful for the heads up, but was feeling uncomfortable about the one eye regarding him sideways.
Hey Mister Rabbit, why are you giving me that hairy eye? My Granny always called that look ‘the hairy eye’, and it creeps me out. Is that a rabbit curse or something?
The rabbit sat back and scratched behind its ear with its hind leg.
Listen dumbass—and that is no longer considered a swear word, not even on the FCC list—I do not have binocular vision. Shit—and that isn’t a swear word any more either so I don’t want to hear it—this is like being stoned all the time. I can’t focus on anything. My eyes are completely separated by this oblong head. So, if I’m going to look at your dipshit face I have to do it with just one eye. The upside is I can see cats or T-Rexs or whatever creeping up on the other side—like I have two separate fields of vision. As for focusing, that is out of the question. Even if I had hands—that sure would be nice, let me tell you—I wouldn’t even be able to focus well enough to light a joint or pop a beer can tab.
Tamar was beginning to feel some sympathy for this rabbit, apparently a nerd of the wild; a helpless geek in its own habitat. It then occurred to him that they were, in a way, two of a kind, and might be able to make common cause to their mutual benefit.
Hey Mister Rabbit, let’s make a deal.
What kind of deal kid?
What if you help me escape from this park, and then I help you by giving you a place to live, like in my house, where you don’t have to worry about being hunted?
The rabbit hunched forward and twitched its nose, working its whiskers energetically.
Do you have a dog?
No dog.
Do you have a cat?
No cat.
Do your neighbors have a dog or a cat?
No; not my next-door neighbors.
You aren’t one of those sickos that keeps a giant Burmese python and feeds small animals to it, are you?
I am not a sicko and I do not have a python of any kind. I have never actually had a pet. Except that is for a sparrow with a broken wing that I befriended. But I didn’t know that it was a carnivore—who would have thought that such a nice little bird did not eat plants—and I fed it plant paste and it died, probably of constipation.
The rabbit twitched his ears suspiciously. So you aren’t much of a dietician. Since you are a dumbass that’s not much of a surprise. If you think about it being a dumbass is about the biggest handicap there is. In that light I think we make a good team. Of course, as dumb as you are, I’m even worse off physically. Let me tell you kid, rabbits have it rough. You seem like a nice kid though. Okay, deal.
Tamar extended his hand as the rabbit sat back again.
Then we should shake on it, right?
With what genius? Look, I hate to reiterate the obvious, but what we have here is a telepathic relationship. Let’s just keep it that way. Also in the interest of fairness, I should, in keeping with the fair disclosure clause in the contract we would have signed if we were back-stabbing lawyer pricks, clue you in.
What do you mean?
What I mean, is that I’ve got issues, two really big ones, and all of the little rabbit ones too. So, okay, you can sit up now. Your friends are upstream.
