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dangerbunny does texas |
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01 Bunnies in Space
They had been restless for some time. Understandable, one would think, what with the new policy forbidding use of personal and portable music devices in the workplace and that irritating officer-manager/sadistic, power-hungry, rules-for-the-sake-of-it bitch thing always getting up in their business about turning in their timesheets and doing their expense reports and not storing open bottles of booze in their desks for the sake of "company liability" or some other ridiculous, trumped up, no-fun reason.
Maybe it was the new corporate direction. Or lack of direction. Or ostensibly horrible direction that was so ostensibly horrible to everyone except those in the position of forming it that they, the bunnies (as they called themselves, or "individual contributors," as they were defined by those responsible for company policies, horrible directions and lackluster bonus and profit-sharing structures) would chuckle liverish-ly about the futility of it all whilst downing $2.50 fishbowls of sub-par beer at a sub-par bar in a strip mall off the interstate known as "the Moon."
The Moon on this particular night wasn't so much half-empty as it was fully deserted as the bunnies filtered in, carrying with them their hostilities, senses of humor and liberal arts educations from mostly reputable universities and other places of higher learning. It was Fluff with the in-laws-visiting-from-out-of-town excuse who arrived first and secured a proper seating place. Soon followed Bernice (eye exam), Bit (hare appointment) and Larry Cottontail, who didn’t really need an excuse to leave work early since nobody knew what he did anyway and marveled that he bothered to show up at all.
Once the first round of fishbowls were procured and the jukebox was loaded with cheating heart tunes, the talk turned to the by-now belabored topics of workplace idiocy, social injustice and personal discontent, all of which the dear reader is sure to not only know well, but have lamented herself a thousand times.
It was Bit who finally changed the conversation’s course with a demand, “Well, let’s do something about it. C’mon, we’re all smart, energetic, creative bunnies. Surely we can think of someway to take back our lives!”
But the problem was, none of them could. Their lives, on paper, sounded better than those of most everyone else they knew. And yet, despite decent houses, reliable cars and even, for Chrissake, dental coverage, they were deeply dissatisfied. They were stuck.
Another round of fishbowls later, Larry Cottontail hit upon something that seemed, in the dim light of the Old Milwaukee sign, evocative.
“Sometimes when I don’t know what to do, I just do the opposite of whatever I’m doing now.”
It was a flash of significance in an otherwise hazy continuum. And in that moment, dental insurance and desk jobs be damned, the bunnies became truck drivers.
Bernice raced to the truck stop across the street and bought everybunny a trucker hat. Fluff sweet talked a seemingly hungry and distracted gentleman while Bit made off with the keys to his rig. Larry Cottontail assumed the driver’s seat (finally, a role of importance!), and the four tore out of the parking lot – destination, future and capacity to handle 10 gears utterly unknown.
