More Than One Way to Skin a Rabbit

by Tim Matson

Chunks of the frog sprayed over the bricks of the garage wall when the M-80 went off.

“Je-sus Christ! Lookit him go!”

“If that ain't gross, nothing is!”

Both of the boys were laughing as Brandon reached into the plastic pail to get the last frog.

“Get some more of that duct tape ready, Buck.”

“Is that the last one?”

“Yep. It's gonna be a doozy, though. We got one frog left, and two M-80's don't we?”

Buckley's eyes lit up at the prospect. “Shee-it! This sucker's a goner!” Buckley ripped two thin strips off the roll of duct tape, and laid them sticky side up on the sidewalk. His freckled hands were shaking a little bit as he centered the two explosives across the strips.

“Git him on there, Bran.”

Brandon laid the frog upside-down on the two firecrackers, while Buckley wrapped the tape on the frog's white underbelly. Brandon twisted the two fuses together, and set the frog upright. The frog's legs pumped wildly as it tried to hop away, but the weight of the M-80's made him sort of drag across the ground.

“He ain't gonna jump away so fast with two of ‘em on there. We're gonna have to run like hell after we light this puppy.”

Brandon looked up at his friend with a wicked grin. “You gettin' a little slow in your old age?”

“Hells bells! You ready to go?”

In answer, Brandon pulled out his Zippo and sparked it with his dirty thumb. “Hell yeah! Three...two...one...” He touched the flame of the lighter to the fuses, and both of them turned and ran ten feet and fell to the ground rolling and laughing. The M-80's went off, and Brandon felt wetness on his cheek.

“Dude! You got frog guts all over your face!”

Brandon wiped off his cheek with the back of his hand, and looked at the blood. “Fucking gross! I didn't think I'd get hit from that far away!”

Buckley was rolling on the grass holding his sides with laughter. “Gut face! That's your new name!”

Brandon wiped stray pieces of the frog off his already stained T-shirt. “Funny. Not!” But he was laughing all the same. After the laughter cooled down to giggles, they went over to survey the carnage.

“Damn! We really blew the hell out that sucker!”

Buckley looked at the red spot on the sidewalk. “Ain't nothing left.” He turned to Brandon and asked, “Now what are we gonna do? I don't feel like going back to the swamp for more frogs, and besides which, we ain't got no more M-80's.”

Brandon frowned for a second, and then his face brightened. “Hey! I just thought of something. Hang on a sec...”

He ran over to the rusted pickup truck that was parked in the cracked driveway, stuck his arm through the open window, and pulled out a folded up newspaper. His tongue appeared at the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on the want ads. “Here it is. I thought so.”

“What's that?”

“Look.”

Buckley looked at the ad underneath Brandon 's yellow fingernail.

FOR SALE : Bunnies and rabbits for pets or breeding.

Buckley looked up at his friend, and saw the shit eating grin hanging there, his eyes bright with excitement. “What the hell?”

“Pull out that cell phone of yours. We're really gonna have some fun now!”

***

Mark Wright swallowed the rest of his beer and watched as the two idiots drove down the road. A couple of classics fuck-ups. The entire afternoon blowing up frogs. Mark knew that Brandon was born a little slow, but the red-headed one, Buckley...he was just a mean little prick. Mark shook his head. From where he sat on his back porch, Mark had witnessed ten frogs going to meet their maker. All Mark had wanted on this beautiful July day was to sit and read his book, relax, and enjoy his vacation. Not likely with Brandon living right next door. Brandon 's mom worked two jobs to make ends meet, and that left a lot of time for Brandon to raise hell. Those two had graduated from High School this year, but Mark doubted they would be out looking for summer jobs so he could get some peace and quiet.

Oh well. Still a couple of beers in the cooler, and the novel was really starting to get good. Maybe he could get a couple of chapters in before the idiots got back and ruined the early evening as well.

“Mark?”

“Out back.”

The screen door flew open and his wife Denise stomped out onto the deck. “Did you fix that faucet today like I told you?”

He looked up at her round, sweaty face and wondered what the hell happened to her. When they married two short years ago, she was the acme of everything he wanted: intelligent; beautiful; a great sense of humor, and laid back. The question still persisted: What the hell happened? She had dyed her hair a carrot red instead of the blonde that came naturally; the once athletic body had settled into rolls of cottage cheese that strained at the optic colored stretch pants she constantly wore because nothing else would fit. Today's color was an odd shade of pink. Mark could see the remnants of this afternoon's lunch resting on one of the rolls that overflowed the top of the pants.

He gave her a blank look. “Faucet?”

Her pink cheeks blossomed to red as she stared at him. “I don't know why I put up with you! The faucet in the bathroom is dripping! A simple thing for you to do and you can't even do that !”

Mark's mind rolled back to this morning's tirade. “Oh. That faucet.”

“All you do is sit around and drink beer and read! Why don't you do something constructive ?”

“For crying out loud! I'm on vacation! Can't I just relax a little?”

“That's your whole life ! Relaxation? That's just lazy ass to me!”

Mark took a weeks' worth of vacation every summer from his job at the granite mines to get some peace and quiet from the explosions he heard every day, and to putter around the garage and get some reading done.

Mark turned away and looked out at the back yard. The grass was mowed. The garden weeded. The garage cleaned.

Didn't do one fucking thing. Right.

He looked back at her, and was about to let her have it when he stopped. She stood there, big as a dirigible and sweating like a plow horse. There was little bit of spittle hanging on her lip. She stepped closer, towering over him, waiting for him to bitch back at her and start this fighting all over again.

He shook his head. “I'm sorry. I'll go do that right now. I must have forgotten.” He got out of the deck chair and ambled over to the garage to get his tool box, his face a cold mask.

***

The idiots returned with a shower of dust and pebbles trailing behind the rusted pickup. Mark was back out on the deck, wrapping up his forefinger with gauze and tape where he sliced it while fixing the faucet.

“See? If you had done it when I asked , that wouldn't have happened!”

Mark didn't comment on the absurdity of that statement, but instead just wandered back out to the deck as she plopped onto the sagging couch with a carton of ice cream and the TV remote. Sounds of screaming contestants and a hyperactive host wafted through the screen door as Mark looked across the back yard.

Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dum were unloading a crate out of the back of the pickup. Mark reached into the cooler and grabbed another beer and settled himself into the deck chair. His eyes narrowed as he watched the boys. The crate was rather large; it took both of them to unload it. It had holes bored in the sides, and the words LIVE ANIMALS stenciled in red ink. The next box that was taken off the pickup bed was smaller; about the size of his tool box, with rope handles on either side. Buckley carried that box gingerly over to the far side of the garage. Both were giggling nervously as they completed their tasks.

Brandon walked into the garage, and returned with a small crowbar and pried open the crate. He cried with glee as they looked inside, and then Buckley pulled out a white rabbit by its long ears. The rabbit squirmed and kicked its legs to escape, but Buckley's grip was strong. Mark heard them laughing and saw them poke at the rabbit with their fingers. Brandon trotted over to the other case, and fell to his knees and opened it. Mark heard the “Wow!” from where he sat, and watched as Brandon he pulled a thin tube out of the case. It was about twelve inches long and dusky red in color.

Buckley whooped and laid the rabbit belly down on the sidewalk as Brandon ran over to his friend. Mark could see them squatting down in front of the rabbit, but couldn't quite make out what they were doing.

The next thing happened very fast. Buckley shouted “Run!” and both of them ran across the yard towards the house. Mark's eyes never left the rabbit. The rabbit had the tube taped on his back with what appeared to be duct tape. His ears twitched slightly, and he began to hop towards the back of the yard. It switched directions in mid-hop, and headed directly to the pickup.

“Oh shit! He's going for the truck! Go the other way you dumb bunny!”

Brandon started to run towards the rabbit, but Buckley pulled him down. “Get down ya dope! He's gonna...”

The last word wasn't completed, because the rabbit exploded, shooting white hair, dirt, blood, and rabbit parts everywhere. Mark instinctively put his hand in front of his face as the sound of the blast struck him. There was dead silence for a moment, and then laughter and hollering from the two dolts. Dust and smoke permeated the area where the bunny went up, very near to where the pickup was sitting. Denise shouted from her nest on the couch, “Mark! What the hell are you doing? ”

He turned to the screen door with the appropriate retort, but simply said, “Wasn't me, dear. It's the neighbor boys.”

Her job done, she fell silent and focused her concentration on the TV as another contestant had a chance to win a living room set.

Mark looked back to the idiots as they were surveying the damage. The rabbit had come very close to the pickup, but didn't get close enough to do any serious damage. At least to that truck. Both of the boys were still laughing looking at the blood and dirt on the side of the truck, and the small divot created by the blast. Brandon went over to the side of the house and started to unwind the garden hose attached to the spigot, pulling it toward the truck as he did so. He shouted for Buckley to turn on the water, and then began to hose the truck down, making it look about the same as it did before.

A car pulled into their driveway, and Mark watched as Brandon 's mother got out of the sedan, and asked a question of her son. Mark couldn't quite hear what she asked, but he could guess. “What the hell are you up to now?” He saw her tiredly shake her head and walk towards the house, look back once at her son and his friend, and then went inside.

The boys went over to the LIVE ANIMALS crate, put the top back on, and then carried it into the garage. Then Brandon went over to the case, put the cover on the top, and carried that into the garage as well. Mark took another sip of beer as he watched the boys clap each other on the back and shout with laughter.

Mark sat in the chair for a full five minutes without moving, just thinking. He ran his fingers through his hair and then straightened up and said, “Huh.”

He finished off the can of beer, crushed it in his hands, and flipped it in the garbage. He nodded his head, got up, and walked over to where the boys were standing next to the truck.

“Frogs and M-80's to rabbits and dynamite, huh boys? That's quite a step up.”

Brandon 's brow began to furrow, and fear spread across his face. Buckley just smiled, and spoke: “What do you want, asshole?”

Mark slanted his gaze to Buckley. “Me? Nothing yet. But I would bet that the sheriff would want both of your asses in jail if he knew what you were doing.”

Brandon began to stammer, “But we ain't done nothing wrong...” but his friend grabbed his bicep hard enough to make him wince. “Shut up, Bran.” His eyes never left Mark's. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he snarled.

Mark met the gaze evenly. “Just a concerned neighbor.” He looked at Brandon again. “What would your mother think, huh Brandon ? Maybe we should have a little chat with her.”

“I'll tell you what, fuck face. You go talk to Brandon 's mom, and you'll regret it!”

“Whacha gonna do, you little prick?” Mark spit in the dirt next to Buckley's shoe and sneered at him. “You ain't got the balls.”

The hue in Buckley's face almost matched his hair as he said, “You better watch yourself. Now get the fuck outta here.”

Further provocation was interrupted by Brandon 's mother opening the screen door, and letting it close with a bang. “ Brandon ! Is there anything wrong?”

“No Ma!”

“You say a word mister...” Buckley hissed.

“I'm going to work. You be good, Brandon ,” she said. She looked a question at Mark, but Mark remained expressionless. She shrugged her shoulders in defeat, and Mark suspected she did that quite a bit. Then she walked to the car, got in, started it up and drove away.

Mark said nothing until she was down the road. “Maybe I'll just speak to her when she gets home.” He looked at Brandon . “Hope you like jail, Brandon .” With that, he turned and walked back to his own house, without a glance back at the two boys.

***

Mark threw the empty plastic container of microwave Pad Thai noodles in the waste basket, and walked back into the living room. Denise lay asleep on the couch, her mouth hanging open, making a sound like mating wildebeest. He looked at her for a moment, his expression tender for a brief moment, thinking of times past. He then bent over and kissed her on the forehead very gently. The horrible rasping sounds emanating from her throat never ceased. He shook his head, and turned to the closet to get his jacket. It was getting a mite chilly out there.

***

The sheriff glanced over at Mark as he drove them in the squad car. When he first told Mark of the accident after he located him at the tavern, the sheriff thought he was going to fall over. The pain and disbelief was agonizing to see. Now as he studied his face reflected in the dash lights of the squad, he saw that Mark had settled into shock. There was no expression at all.

“Are you okay, Mr. Wright?”

Mark nodded his head. “I...I guess. I just can't believe it...happened.”

The firemen were poking around the smoldering ruins as the sheriff pulled the squad car into the field across the street. Mark got out of the riders side and stood and stared as the smoke rose in the air.

“I'm very sorry about the house, but there was nothing they could do,” he said.

Mark's face was still blank as he asked, “Did you find her?”

“Yes.” The sheriff paused. “Again, I'm very sorry.”

Mark just shook his head.

“You were very lucky, Mr. Wright. If you hadn't walked up town to have a beer, you'd be in there as well.”

“Do you know what happened yet?”

“Let's see if they know yet.” He shouted across the street, “Hey Bixby?”

“Yeah, sheriff?”

“You got a cause yet?”

Bixby walked over to the two men. “You ain't gonna believe this. Those two troublemakers were taken to the hospital.”

“What happened?” the sheriff asked.

“From what we have gathered, the two boys, Brandon and Buckley, were taping sticks of dynamite to rabbits and letting them go to watch them blow up. Only something went wrong, or so they say. Somehow, a couple of the rabbits went the wrong way and ended up underneath the house and blew it all to hell. The two boys were hurt pretty badly with the flying debris.”

“Jesus Christ! How can those two be so stupid?” asked the sheriff.

“What I can't figure out,” continued Bixby, “is how come it did so much damage? They said it was only two rabbits, but,” he swung his arm towards the house, “look at this place. Looks like they had ten rabbits taped with dynamite to do this amount of damage. Maybe it hit the gas line or something.” He shook his head. “I didn't know they had gas out here, though.”

The sheriff looked up at Mark. “You got gas out here, Mr. Wright?”

“Nope. Everything electric.”

The sheriff turned back to the house. “That's weird. When I was in the war, I saw what a stick of dynamite could do. This is much more than two sticks.”

Mark turned to Bixby. “The two boys that...killed my wife. You say they're hurt pretty bad?”

Bixby frowned. “That was your wife? I'm sure sorry about that. Yeah, they were hurt really bad. Broken arms and legs, concussions...blood everywhere.”

Marked turned to the sheriff. “What happens to them?”

The sheriff met his gaze. “I'm going to talk to the D.A. about that very thing. Probably charge them with manslaughter.”

“Will they go to jail?”

“You bet. They will do some time.”

Mark nodded his head slowly. “Good. I hope it's a very long time.” He paused for a minute, looking at the wreckage.

“Now there's nothing left. Nothing but peace and quiet.”