THE GREAT PRETENDER

By P.K. Silverson

© Copyright 2009
By The Author
All Rights Reserved

Early one morning, a little grey rabbit was sleeping in late in the peaceful safety of his hole in the floor of the vast, verdant wood. Suddenly, a roar like thunder shook his home. It repeated over and over with no particular rhythm to speak of. It drew closer and closer all the time.

This was very strange because there wasn’t a cloud overhead. In fact, the weather service had forecast clear skies for the balance of the week!

Not fully awake but very curious all the same, the little grey rabbit cautiously peeked out of his hole in the floor of the vast, verdant wood. To his great surprise, he saw all his forest friends racing past his safe little hole.

“What’s going on?” the little grey rabbit inquired innocently as his best friend, the great green tortoise, struggled to keep up with the crowd.

“Run for your life,” the great green tortoise warned the little grey rabbit. “A mighty hunter has come to the vast, verdant forest with his double-barreled shotgun and his faithful companion, the dog.”

“What does he want?” the little grey rabbit asked the great green tortoise, but to no avail. His best friend continued plodding along and was already out of earshot.

With explosive force, a load of buckshot tore into the ground right next to the little grey rabbit’s hole in the floor of the vast, verdant wood. A wave of grass and dirt kicked up from the impact.

“Yikes!” the frightened bunny screamed as he dove head-first back into the safety of his hole.

Crawling for his life, the little grey rabbit made his way to the back entrance of his home, which was a very good thing, because the mighty hunter had found the hole in the floor of the vast, verdant wood and had stuck the barrels of his shotgun into it.

Without a second’s consideration for the residence of a respected citizen of the forest, the mighty hunter pulled both triggers of his weapon, blasting the humble contents of the little grey rabbit’s humble abode into a million tiny bits.

The little grey rabbit watched helplessly from the cover of the thick green underbrush of the forest as the mighty hunter got down on his hands and knees. He reached his arm deep into the smoking hole in the floor of the vast, verdant wood. The bright light of anticipation burned in his eyes as he felt around for the remains of his prey. But when he finally pulled back his hand, it was empty.

“I know you’re in there,” the mighty hunter swore darkly, “and I’m going to get you if it’s the last thing I do.”

With that, the mighty hunter got back up on his feet, picked up his double-barreled shotgun, whistled for his faithful companion, the dog, and left.

“That was close,” sighed the little grey rabbit sadly, because he had to find a new hole in the floor of the vast, verdant wood in which to live.

The little grey rabbit began his search immediately and almost found a perfect new hole on his very first day. But the previous owner, a badger who was relocating for business reasons, had an asking price that was far too high. The little grey rabbit simply couldn’t come up with a large enough down to bring the monthly nut within reason.

“Maybe you should consider rebuilding,” the beaver, who was also the little grey rabbit’s insurance agent, suggested when his client dropped by to collect his settlement for the damage the mighty hunter had done to his home.

“Tempting as that thought may be,” the little grey rabbit answered, “the mighty hunter swore to come back and get me. I just don’t think it would be such a good idea.”

And, of course, the beaver had to agree.

Being fairly well-to-do and well liked, too, the little grey rabbit did not have to search very long before finding suitable new accommodations. Before the month was out, he was comfortably settled in a new hole in the floor of the vast, verdant wood with a view of the babbling brook below the hill.

Time passed, as time always does, until early one morning, when the little grey rabbit once again was shaken out of his bed by the roaring sound of thunderous blasting which repeated over and over with no particular rhythm to speak of. As before, the noise quickly drew closer and closer.

Fully awake in an instant, the little grey rabbit cautiously peeked out of his new hole in the floor of the vast, verdant wood. To his great surprise, his magnificent view of the babbling brook below the hill was totally obscured as all his forest friends scrambled along, racing past his hole.

“What’s going on?” the little grey rabbit demanded of a chattering chipmunk, who he’d grabbed by the scruff of the neck.

“Let me go, please,” the chattering chipmunk begged, his eyes filled with fear. “We must all run for our lives. The mighty hunter as returned to the vast, verdant forest with his double-barreled shotgun and his faithful companion, the dog.”

With explosive force, a load of buckshot tore into the hillside right next to the little grey rabbit. He dropped the chattering chipmunk without a second thought and dove head-first back into the safety of his hole.

Crawling for his life, the little grey rabbit made his way back to the rear entrance he’d just finished installing in his new home. This was a wise and prudent thing to do, because the mighty hunter quickly found the little grey rabbit’s new hole in the floor of the vast, verdant wood with a view of the babbling brook below the hill.

The mighty hunter stuck the barrels of his shotgun into the hole and without a second’s consideration for time and effort that had gone into finding and furnishing the residence, he pulled both triggers of his weapon, blasting all the furniture and appointments into a million tiny bits.

The little grey rabbit watched with horror from behind a pile of rocks down by the side of the babbling brook as the mighty hunter got down on his hands and knees. As the intruder reached his arm deep into the ruins of the hole, a smouldering fire of anxious discovery glimmered in his eyes.

The mighty hunter felt around gingerly for the remains of his prey. But when he finally pulled back his hand, it was empty.

“I know you’re in there,” the mighty hunter scratched his head with barely bridled frustration, “and I’m going to get you if it’s the last thing I do.”

With that, the mighty hunter got back up on his feet, picked up his double-barreled shotgun, whistled for his faithful companion, the dog, and left.

“That was too close,” the little grey rabbit shivered with fright. But he could not stay hidden in the rocks by the babbling brook below the hill in the vast, verdant wood for long. He had to find a new hole in which to live.

Within hours, the little grey rabbit located a fixer-upper in a run-down section of the vast, verdant wood. He agreed to assume the mortgage from a sloth who’d decided it might be best just to move on.

“Maybe you should consider a change of scenery, too,” the beaver, who was also the little grey rabbit’s insurance agent, suggested when his client dropped by to collect his settlement for the damage the mighty hunter had done to his new home.

“Tempting as that thought may be,” the little grey rabbit answered, “this is my home. The mighty hunter swore to come back and get me. It looks like he’s going to follow me wherever I go. I just wish I knew why.”

Time passed, as time always does. Early one morning, the little grey rabbit, who was tossing nervously in his bed, unable to catch even a wink of sleep, heard the sound of a roar like thunder. It repeated over and over with no particular rhythm to speak of. As it had twice previously, the blasting drew closer all the time.

The little grey rabbit cautiously peeked out of his fixer-upper in a run-down section of the vast, verdant wood. There was no surprise whatsoever when he beheld all his forest friends scrambling along, racing past his home in blind fear.

“So,” the little grey rabbit said in disgust, “the mighty hunter as returned to the vast, verdant forest with his double-barreled shotgun and his faithful companion, the dog.”

With explosive force, a load of buckshot tore into the ground next to the little grey rabbit’s fixer-upper. Without a second thought, he dove head-first back into the safety of his hole and crawled for his life down the narrow tunnel he’d barely finished reinforcing to the rear entrance of his new home.

This again proved to be the safest course of action, because as he watched from the safety of a grove of stately elms, the little grey rabbit saw the mighty hunter stick the barrels of his shotgun into the abandoned hole.

As before, without the merest consideration for the sentimental attachment a homeowner might have for his property, the mighty hunter pulled both triggers of his weapon, blasting the paltry belongings left behind by the little grey rabbit into a million tiny bits.

The mighty hunter got down on his hands and knees once again and reached his arm deep into the ruins of the hole. Beacons of hope blazing brightly in his eyes. He felt around gingerly for the remains of his prey. But when he finally pulled back his hand, it was empty.

“I know you’re in there,” the mighty hunter scratched his head with barely bridled frustration, “and I’m going to get you if it’s the last thing I do.”

The mighty hunter got back up on his feet, picked up his double-barreled shotgun, whistled for his faithful companion, the dog.

“Hey, Rover-boy,” the little grey rabbit called to the mighty hunter’s faithful companion, the dog, “what’s that guy got against me?”

“It’s nothing personal, Mr. Rabbit,” the mighty hunter’s faithful companion, the dog answered politely. “My master works all day for somebody else and lives in a rented home. His wife buys new things left and right and his children are always crying or arguing. He’s just an ordinary guy, pretending to be a mighty hunter.”

“But he’s never caught me yet,” the little grey rabbit pointed out.

“And he never will if you stay on your toes,” the mighty hunter’s faithful companion, the dog surmised. “But that won’t stop him. Pretending he’s a mighty hunter is all he’s got.”

“What are you barking at?” the mighty hunter called to his faithful companion, the dog. “Come on, boy. Let’s go home.”

“Sorry about the imposition,” the mighty hunter’s faithful companion, the dog, apologized as he loped off to join his master.

And with that, they left.

The little grey rabbit sat in the safety of the grove of stately elms until late in the afternoon, then went to see his insurance agent, the beaver, to collect his settlement for the damage the mighty hunter had done to his new home.

“Maybe you should give up,” the beaver suggested to his client, who was obviously exhausted from the on-going ordeal.

“Tempting as that thought may be,” the little grey rabbit answered, “I’m just going back to my first hole in the floor of the vast, verdant wood. The mighty hunter swore to come back and get me, but it looks like couldn’t hit the broad side of the barn with a banjo. I’m tired, and I’m going home to get some sleep.”

And so he did.

Moral: If at first you don’t succeed, maybe failure is your thing.