To Be or Not To Be?

                                          To Be or Not To Be?

T
he Gods were pissed off. Tommy didn’t know exactly why but he could definitely tell something was brewing.  If the turbulent skies up above were not the cause for knowing, then at least the winds blowing the porch papers into a cyclonic dance throughout the neighborhood should have made him worried. Tommy’s turbulent tummy was active all morning in school and he knew the moment the bell rang to head straight for home.

Running at full tilt, Tommy heard the wailing from 3 blocks away.  The anguished sounds intensified as he came closer to the very small bungalow that he, mom and Buster called home. Once at the front path he realized the wails were not coming from Buster, as he had assumed. On other similar occasions when Tommy had heard sirens in the background, Buster would wail to the heavens and not stop until the last “whooo whooo” disappeared over the horizon. No, these uncontrollable sobs came from inside his home – from his Mom.

Realizing this, Tommy ran as fast as he could into the kitchen, slamming the screen door and skidding into the kitchen table sending everything on it all over the place.  Tommy finally regained control of his gangly arms and legs and focused on his mom at the kitchen sink.  She was crying so hard her shoulders were shaking up and down.  He slowly came around to face her and inquire what was wrong when he noticed her gently washing something in the sink.  Upon closer inspection, Tommy realized it was a rabbit. By the size of its ears Tommy knew this was no ordinary rabbit. Oh no, this rabbit looked just like one the Mr. Mortimer’s prized lops. Lops are a breed of rabbits which have long ears hanging down – way down.  They are rare and Mr. Mortimer loved to show his lops at the seasonal fairs.
Tommy continued to watch mom wash this sweet little bunny in the sink as she cried and cried and cried.

“Mom, are you helping Mr. Mortimer groom one of his lops for the county fair?”
All she could muster was a slight head shake. He defined it as a “no”. Without another word, Tommy’s Mom put the soaked rabbit into a towel and began to dry off the excess water.  Following her to the bathroom, she took the blow-dryer out and begin to coif the little creature. 

“Mom what are you doing now if you are not helping Mr. Mortimer?”
Through broken, staccato speech mom said,” Tommy, I am putting this poor little creature back together again.” 
He was still baffled. Then the light bulb of a 10 year of flicked on and Tommy put the pieces together. He turned to Buster, who had by now slinked into the hallway to see what all the fuss was.  The accentuated droop of Buster’s eyes and the drool down that side of his mouth screamed that he was involved somehow.  Buster is a three year old blood hound and guilt radiates from him like a neon sign. 

“Buster what have you done now?” 
Buster sunk his head deeper between his paws and let out a small whine.
“That’s right Buster, you (sniff) tell Tommy (sniff) what you did (sniff) this time.  This time you have (sniff) gone too far. I don’t know what’s going to happen to us now!!!” 

Tommy’s mom’s wails raised an octave and continued uncontrollably.
“Rope knot….shaking something furry….dirty……. ooooooooooooooh! sooooooooo dirty!” Mom tried to tell a story throughout her sobbing, but mimes do a better job. Now it came to him; history repeating itself.
“Oh no Buster, you didn’t. Not again.” Tommy said shaking his head. 

The whole situation unraveled in front of him. You see, Buster loves to dig under our fence and go over to Mr. Mortimer’s and “play” with his lops when they are out in their grassy area. But Buster’s idea of “play” and Mr. Mortimer’s idea are not two of the same. By the time Tommy had it all figured out, his mom had the rabbit all dried and laying on a towel in a box in the Kitchen. 

“Mom, is the rabbit dead?”
She just nodded her head through her sobs.  I could here thunder start rumbling in the hills.
“Oh no Mom, what are we going to do?  When Mr. Mortimer finds out he is going to make us give Buster away, or makes us move or he might even KILL us!”
Then lightening struck (or so I imagined).  Mom could see my anxiety start to peak and came and wrapped her shaking arm around me.
“Don’t worry, love, I have been waiting for this to happen and praying it wouldn’t, and although I didn’t have all the solutions at the time, I have thought of one now.”

Since Tommy and his mom had become a family of only two, he had always thought of her as a rock.  Now he was beginning to wonder if the strains of her divorce from his dad had caused a few of her marbles to shift.
"Okay Mom, deep breaths.  Now tell me what you have in mind.”
  “Tommy, I am going to put this rabbit back in its cage and hope Mr. Mortimer finds it and thinks it just died of old age.” 
He looked at her with disbelief.  This is her well thought out solution?  Instead of her marbles shifting maybe they had drained out of her head completely. Thunder was rumbling louder either inside his head or outside the house.
“Mom, how are you ever going to pull that (crazy) idea off?”
“Look at it, Tommy, doesn’t he look like he is sleeping?  With no teeth punctures in his body he can be disguised as asleep instead of dead.”
“When do you plan to pull off this “sneak the dead rabbit back into its cage and pretend it is asleep plan” anyway, Mom?” 
“Well tonight, of course, and the sooner the better.
“Yes, right tonight, uh huh, of course.”

Tommy had been thrown into the middle of a nightmare and he hoped someone was going to wake him up soon. Tommy continued to comfort his Mom as she went over the plot in her head.  He stroked Buster too. Buster didn’t mean to be the culprit, and Mom loosing her marbles was just the result of her love for both of them – he hoped.

The next morning Tommy awoke to Buster at the foot of his bed and his mom asleep on the couch.  Whew! So far everything looks the same as before he had that awful nightmare. His Mom was probably up late, again, crying over dad.  Tommy knew his morning routine and ran with it so that he wouldn’t be late for school. After readying himself for the day ahead, Tommy kicked Buster outside for his morning sniffs among other business. He checked the fence to make sure that all Busters’s “visiting” holes were repaired. He came into the house and gently kissed his mom on the forehead and then he skipped joyfully out the door.  Once down the block, he ran as fast as possible to school just making first bell.  Who would ever believe the dream he had last night?  This is one story Tommy decided he had better keep to himself. He was so busy trying to make sense of the day before that he failed to notice the wind had not died down yet.

The following week sailed by and Tommy and his Mom never mentioned anything about the ”nightmare”  so he was pretty sure that life would stay the same, and he would grow up to be a big strong healthy teenager. On Saturday, their little neighborhood held its annual picnic.  Even though the unseasonably odd weather could have dampened spirits, it was always lots of fun with great food and nobody wanted to see it cancelled.  There were games and music and by night a few brave souls ventured to dance. Tommy stood back and watched his Mom forget her worries and have the time of her life as she always did at this event no matter what the weather was doing.  That is until Mr. Mortimer eventually found her amongst the crowds and updated her on Buster’s attempt at “play” with his lops.

That moment had come and the crowd parted. Mr. Mortimer headed a b-line towards them. A rendition of the overture from “Jaws” could be heard loud and clear in the background of Tommy’s mind. He could feel his heart start to pound and he looked around to see if everyone else could hear the “de, de; de, de; de – de-de-de”.  Mr. Mortimer located his prey and there was no stopping him. The ferocity with which Mr. Mortimer bared down on them made Tommy question whether that “incident” was dreamed or reality.
“Mrs. Hunt, I have been meaning to speak with you and Tommy…”

Oh no here it comes.

“…A very strange occurrence happened last week with one of my lops, and I want to share with you. Flopsy, my oldest lop passed away sadly form old age.”
Oh no, they are doomed.
“I couldn’t bear to part with her, so I created a little cemetery and buried her out back passed the grassy yard. The next night when I came to clean her cage out, there she was all washed and fluffy as if she had come back from the grave.  But no, it wasn’t to be.  Flopsy was still dead. It is a mystery how she got back to in her cage. Can you imagine such a thing?”

Mom and Tommy slowly turned around and faced each other. They burst in to uncontrollable laughter.  They both laughed and laughed until the tears of anxiety turned to joy ran down their faces.  Tommy’s mom turned to Mr. Mortimer and said,
“You would never believe us if we told you our theory.” And continued peeling with laughter.  Not understanding their reaction, Mr. Mortimer shrugged his shoulders, turned and hunted for new prey to hear his bizarre story. At that very moment, the clouds parted just in time to reveal Mother Nature’s sun in its finest hour – dusk. The Gods were finally smiling.