First off, I have greatly enjoyed all of the texts, phone calls, and even a few emails about the last blog. Most of them came from not exes but pissed off exes’ friends…we all know how that works..thanks girls. I don’t even know who this one girl named Rachel was, but the voicemail she left me would make a sailor’s language sound like the Queen’s English…oh yes, and miss Rachel.. “fixin” is not a word…Once again, sorry but I call them how I see them.

Over the past few weeks our neighborhood as been invaded by small rabbits, every night if you walk outside you can see two or three scatter in the backyard. This morning driving through the neighborhood I counted seven, yes seven, dead rabbits in the road that had been hit by cars last night after 4th of July activities. (Random thought..but “Dead Rabbits In The Road” would be an awesome name for a band). We had two dead rabbits near our house and I realized that no one was going to move them. I then decided to do the responsible adult thing and get rid of them myself, there are little kids that ride their bikes and play on that street all the time and I didn’t want them to get some disease from a dead rabbit.
So I grab my shovel and an industrial garbage bag, put on some gloves, and within about three minutes had both of those little guys in the trash bag. Then I had another problem, what do you do with two dead rabbits in a bag in suburban Atlanta? You cant throw them away..the garbage would smell like hell until they came and picked it up. There is really no place to burn them. So what I settled on was burying them in some woods behind our neighborhood. Don’t know if I’m allowed to do that or not, but I did, just trying to protect the kids. So I dug a hole, placed the bag in there, filled it up with dirt, and was about to walk off.
The four year old sensitive kid inside of me came out and I was like “well I guess I should say something”. But this posed a new question, “what the hell do you say at a rabbits funeral”. I mean really “Here’s to hopping on over to the other side?” or “hope there are carrots wherever you are”? Nothing really worked. Which made me think…what do rabbits really do? What is their purpose? I really don’t know if they have one but I gathered through later thought that most rabbits we know of are the subjects of children’s stories. So what kind of lives did these little guys have ( I named them Carl and Hank )? The two little guys in the 50 gallon Hefty bag buried back in the woods never got to realize that dreams . I really wonder what happened on their last day here on Earth?..this is what I came up with…
Carl and Hank were just two good ole rabbits enjoying the 4th of July at their friend Bubba’s burrough. They made their way there earlier that morning through the briar patch and a quick pit stop at Starbucks to pick up a carrot juice latte. Carl stopped at the gas station and picked up three bags of ice for the cooler and two cases of Pabst Orange Carrot. When they reached Bubba’s house they realized they were behind on the festivities. Because their Pabst Orange Carrot was not cold yet because it had just been put on ice. Bubba let them reach in his cooler and they shotgunned three cans of “lucky foot light” to catch up.
This continued for the rest of the day, sure they shot fireworks, played air guitar, whistled at the bunny tail hopping through the briar patch, but mainly these rabbits did what most do on the 4th of July. Later that night Carl and Hank decided to head home. Bubba said, “Man y’all have had way too much, y’all cant hop home.” But they decided to anyways and on North Lakeside Drive they played a deadly game of Frogger that didn’t end so well for them. An expedition with large tires took Carl out first, he was still talking when Hank got to him. Hank tried to tend to his wounds and call for help but a Corvette going 65 ended all those hopes and Carl and Hank were silenced. They were just trying to get home.

So we all learned a valuable lesson from them… Don’t drink and hop..or drive..it results in smelly rotting roadkill in front of my house.