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Feed the Rabbit
By Joe Greco

The large white rabbit dances on the sidewalk as cars roll by in clouds of
gunmetal gray exhaust.  The rabbit wiggles a green and yellow plywood sign that
reads, “Soupy’s Salad Bowl.   Freshest Food Around.  Turn In Here.”   People
drive past, grim-faced, dutifully heading back and forth to their offices and
homes.  When they see the rabbit, they shake their heads and think, man, who the
hell would want that job?   The rabbit has to keep moving all day long, holding
and wiggling that sign, trying to lure customers into Soupy’s to buy a Garden
Deluxe salad or a Bunny’s Delight gazpacho.  It must get hot in that flannel
rabbit suit, they think.  That big papier mache head must weigh heavily on the
neck and shoulders.  Some of them turn to their kids and say, “See what happens
when you don’t stay in school?  You want to be doing that someday?”  What a
lousy job, they think.

Then one day a lone commuter notices that the rabbit isn’t just wiggling the
sign, but is madly dancing the tango with it.  The driver thinks, how cool is
that?  And she gives a little toot on her horn.  Next day, three drivers in
separate lanes realize simultaneously that the rabbit is using the sign to
shield itself from the arrows of rival health food warlords, while vigorously
striking the bold poses of the Edo kabuki.  And they honk approvingly.  Soon a
multitude in the parade of traffic recognizes that the rabbit is swaying to the
riffs of jazz bands, staging Shakespearian tragedies and comedies, and dancing
under the watchful eyes of invisible choreographers who call out their
directions in the suburban canyons of shopping malls and fast food joints.  The
honking starts, cacophonous at first, but then the rabbit steps up, holding the
Soupy’s sign high in one hand, and begins conducting the automotive orchestra.
Now the horns sound in accented staccato bursts and long soulful moans that
crescendo and fade. The drivers think, man, that rabbit sure knows how to make
the best of a bad job.  The rabbit thinks, man, I wish some of these tightwads
would turn in here, buy a Garden Deluxe or a Bunny’s Delight, and keep me
employed.  Otherwise, I could end up having to work a boring job like theirs.


Joe Greco is a Northern California lawyer and writer.  His short stories
have appeared in Emprise Review, Bartleby Snopes, 34th Parallel, Dog Oil Press,
and FictionDaily. Contact Ada.