THUMP!
Mike, my burly general contractor, stopped mid-sentence and looked past me towards the source of that thunderous sound: The oversized back feet of a large, black-and-white splotched rabbit. The bun sat upright and defiant, in the center of the kitchen floor. If it’s possible for a bunny to glare, this one was doing it.
“Is he OK?” Mike asked.
“You’re fiddling with your keys. He doesn’t like it.”
Mike had been absent-mindedly running his fingers through the collection of metal bits in one of his pockets. Despite the “this woman is insane” look on his face, his hand went still. Satisfied, the long-eared protestor turned and hopped away to attend to his waiting pile of greens. Not even a 200-pound adversary could intimidate Elwood.