Some Bunny

By Vickie Wippel

          Not every day that a big ol’ white rabbit comes tappity-tapping on your door. It wasn’t Easter, and I sure didn’t have no jellybeans. None of them marshmallow abominations, neither. Lord only knows what a Peep is, anyway. Course, when I open the door, it ain’t no real bunny. Bunnies don’t have big honking noses and Marlboros dangling from their mouths. Now, this was back in the day when we weren’t all scared of one another, so, when a bunny is at the door, you just go on and open it. Those were the manners my mama raised me with, rest her soul. She was always telling me, “Treat others the way you wanna be treated, Banjo.” Banjo isn’t my real name. It was just a nickname back then. I did have a shot gun behind the coat rack. 
          Anyway, I open the door. “How do you do, Bunny?” I says. After, I wished I woulda said, “What’s up, Doc,” but I just didn’t think it quick enough. Shoot.
          “I’m not a bunny, so don’t you go on offering me a carrot.”
          I guess bunnies don’t have a sense of humor.
           “What are you, then?” I looked outside but didn’t see anyone else, bunnies or otherwise. Course, it was a quiet street. The bunny’s head was down, his long ears covered his face. His cigarette ashed on my porch. It was a nice porch. I always was proud how it wrapped round the whole front of the house. Mama asked me to paint it the color of bluebonnets every couple a years, but where the ash landed, I saw them floor boards had all but wore out. With Mama, gone, I suppose it’s time to start asking my own self to keep the house fixed up.
          “My girl turned me out. I aint’ got nowhere to go.” The Bunny shuffled his feet, not quick like a rabbit at all. Kinda sad, like my miniature donkey. Not the three-legged one who got stuck in a dang fence. The other one.
          “Was it cuz the costume?” I tried not to be preachy. The Bible tells us not to judge. He looked down at his zipped up white fur, and I did too. Parts of it were matted with red. Either blood or ketchup-- my guess was ketchup. His hair was matted, too, and he looked flat tired. He carried an old timey suitcase- no wheels, locks, or nothin’.
          “Nah. She bought the costume. She, that what I call her, She. It’s short for Shelia.” He smiled a little because I guess it sounds funny when you say it out loud, even when you’re sad. The Bunny explained that he and Shelia used to run a theater for cripples or something, but the work dried up. They got in a big ol’ fight about bills, and she locked him out. “All she put in my suitcase was them damn costumes.” He looked up to make sure I didn’t laugh. This time, I didn’t. “Shelia is a clown,” he added and shook his head. Now I don’t know for certain if Shelia was dressed like a clown or not, cuz I didn’t know how to ask in a nice way. My hunch was-- she wasn’t.
          “Well, whatcha gonna do? Can I fix you some sweet tea?” It’s the Southern thing to say when you don’t know what else to say.
          “Thank you, but I don’t need any tea. I’ll just stay here for a minute if that’s alright by you.” He dropped his suitcase down and rested his elbows against my porch rail, which I saw needed sanding and painting, too. A mockingbird flew above in the blue sky. Then the Bunny started crying, real quiet, of course. His nose looked like it was twitching, but that coulda just been in my mind.
          “Don’t you cry now.” I wiped my hands on my covers and led him to the front porch steps. “Let’s sit you on down and rest a while.” He sorta flopped on the top step. A name was painted tiny in gold under the handle of his suitcase-- Thom Bailey. Well, I’ll be. Thom lived a while down the road. Close to the old general store. His house wasn’t over yonder, but it was close. While Thom and I was classmates way back when, he hadn’t crossed my mind since Hector was a pup. I could kinda sorta see the boy I used to know peering through the head hole of that tired old costume.   
          Thom the Bunny took a long drag of his cigarette and looked out on the street. “You want one?” He nodded and gestured for me to take the extra he’d somehow tucked behind his bunny ear. Now, I’d never had me any tobacco before; most I ever tried was a Dr. Pepper that felt like a trash fire going down my throat. But I didn’t want to hurt no feelings, so I grabbed it and borrowed his light. I’ll tell you what-- after that first drag, I coughed like a tomcat with a furball, and my eyes all welled up. I near about lost my breath. 
          Thom the Bunny sat up right quick and helped me down to the top step next to him. He patted my back and says, “You’re gonna be alright.” Now, Thom was the one who was sad. So’s I decide I should be the one patting on his back, instead. Then, I go on and tell him he’s gonna be alright, too. Course, I was still coughing and crying up a storm, so he might not coulda heard me.
          A couple sips of sweet tea stopped my mouth from steaming like a locomotive, so I could ask Thom if he remembered visiting me right on this here porch when we wasn’t bigger than them bales of alfalfa out back. A couple times, we played in the fields while our mamas visited after church.

          “Course I remember, Banjo,” He said, licking his teeth like something was stuck.
          Well, how do you like that? The Bunny knew my name.
          “That’s how come I stopped by today. You and your mama was so warm and welcoming.” He looked up at me. “Folks was always visiting on that porch, enjoying theirselves. Ya’ll seemed so happy. I guess I wanted me some of that right now.” He took a drag on the cigarette and went back to kicking at the ground.
          Now, here’s where I might coulda told him he’s the first visitor since mama been gone, going on two years, now. That I never knew I could be so lonesome in a big ol’ house that used to be right cheerful. I near told him I walked the halls at night like a danged ol’ ghost. Why, I don’t close my eyes ‘til morning comes, trying real hard not to forget how things used to be. But, shoot, it’s near impossible to pour your heart to a man in a bunny costume, even if it’s a Bunny you already know. “Thom, why don’t we get you inside and cleaned up right quick?” I looked down at his suitcase. “And, if you ain’t got yourself real clothes in there, well, you’re welcome to borrow some of mine.” Then, without thinking much, I says, “Maybe tomorrow, we can go into town and get you all fixed up in a suit, or something nice.”
          “I’d sure like that, Banjo.” Thom the Bunny darn near smiled, stubbed his cigarette, and chucked it over the porch rail.
          “Why, Thom, we gonna fix you up so nice, when Shelia sees you, she’ll start crying like a kitten to take her back.” I smiled and patted the fur on his back.
          “That’s a fine idea, Banjo, a fine idea. But maybe we can just sit here a while longer? I’m all wore out.” Thom stared down the road some more and started humming a tune. I reckoned it was from his old theater show.
          And so, we sat there on the faded blue porch ‘til the sun went down. I sure did like that afternoon. Just a man and a bunny being neighborly like Jesus and mama taught us. And I sure hoped it was gonna be alright after all.