I present the roadkill sequel that Beatrix Potter never got around to writing.

July 8, 2010

Three months or so after Easter, I have a Good Friday confession to make: I hit a bunny. With my car. On Good Friday.

I’m still not sure how it happened, except that I was driving and then there was a bunny in front of the car, and then…then there was no more bunny. It was as if it just suddenly materialized inches in front of me, in the dark. I’d make a reference to Bunnicula (oh, Bunnicula, how innocent you seem in these days of sparkly vampires and shirtless werewolves), but that seems a little disrespectful.

Anyway, I hit it and it was dead and the entire thing was beyond awful. (And, yes. I turned around on a nearby side street and drove back to check and it looked dead. Then when I went back two minutes later to check once again, this time to make sure it was a bunny and not a house cat that I should report to Animal Control, it was gone, which means it wasn’t dead but close to it, having dragged its little body, fur tacky with blood, into some nearby bushes ohgod ohgod ohgod.)

I’m telling you, you hit a bunny two days before Easter and it is factually impossible not to take it as a bad omen. It’s like plowing into Santa’s sleigh an icy week before Christmas, or accidentally smothering the Tooth Fairy with a pillow.

Plus, hitting a bunny is so much worse than hitting most anything else. For God’s sake, bunnies look like THIS:

The bad news: Unlike with Peter, one dose of chamomile tea at bedtime was not going to cure what ailed this bunny. The good news: Also unlike Peter, this bunny was not wearing a small blue jacket with brass buttons. If there had been one single brass button in sight, I would have driven to the nearest bridge and promptly jumped off it. A dead bunny I could survive. A nattily dressed dead bunny? I’m not so sure.

But back to the omens. While hell has not quite yet raineth down, someone on high has been screwing with me. Since that night, I have had four, FOUR, bunnies run across the road in front of me. Happily, I managed to not hit any of them. Such effort often requires Evel Knievel-type feats of driving,  involving much jostling of Aura in her carseat and much screaming from pedestrians. But for now, those four bunnies run unscathed, free to dart merrily in front of other unsuspecting cars.

Therefore and In Conclusion, given that I am putting such effort into not killing bunnies forevermore, I feel that it is only fair to ask the shortest person living in this house to STOP REMINDING ME.

Because, honestly? That green one with the bow tie is starting to freak me out.

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9 Responses to “I present the roadkill sequel that Beatrix Potter never got around to writing.”

  1. blueviolet Says:

    You had me ewwwwing with that tacky blood description. GROSS!!!! Let that be a lesson to ya is what your kids are saying with those animal friends!

  2. foxy Says:

    Yes, that is exactly like accidentally smothering the tooth fairy with your pillow when she comes to give you money for your teeth. That is just awful.

    One time I had a bunny named Killer, which is such a huge oxymoron, but I loved my little Killer. And then he shat all over the house and ate through all of our electrical wiring, so we “let him go” in a wooded park where he was likely eaten by something bigger. I was young and stupid… I am sorry about that though.

  3. Salt Says:

    That green one looks like a zombie bunny. Not trying to freak you out or anything.

    Bunnicula used to be my favorite book as a kid!

  4. Katie Says:

    I keep rabbits as pets, and I remember a few days after we got our first one, a rabbit ran out in front of me on the way home from work. *thunk!* *whimper*

    Fortunately I was about a block away from home because I was crying big crocodile tears and couldn’t see the rest of the way. LOL, it’s kind of funny now, but I was devastated at the time.

  5. Val Says:

    From another Peter Rabbit lover: Aura, please stop torturing your Momma with all those stuffed bunnies!
    🙂


  6. One time I ran over an already-dead dog. That was MUCH worse than that other time when I hit a bunny on a lonely stretch of highway between Atlanta and Athens. Both were horrifying, no doubt, but the dog was MUCH bigger. I think I hit my head on the roof of the car. Blech. I thought about it for DAYS.
    Anyway, it’s a wonder I’ve never hit a bunny in my neighborhood. They’re everywhere, man.

  7. Karen Says:

    My first and only roadkill was a bunny: 16 years old, newly-minted liscence, driving to the mall. It left a mark on my soul, to be sure.

    But why conjure up benevolent, much-loved literary bunnies? I betcha anything you’d feel MUCH better if you picture the ol’ SUV mowing down Brer Rabbit, clutching his Tar Baby. Now there’s an outdated archetype that no one needs anymore.


  8. Hysterical! After they trash my garden I tell my kids I aim the car for them. But not really.

  9. Tracie Says:

    I would make that green one “accidentally” disappear. At least there won’t be any blood if you do it.


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