RABBIT RABBIT DECEMBER 2025

Rabbit rabbit. Said first thing in the morning on the first day of the month. It's good luck. Shortly after which I heard the turkey vulture complaining. He wants me to go out there and harvest some fatty inner thigh cutlets, and wonders querulously why I haven't cut up a random fat street person yet. He knows they out there, he's heard their noise.
All I have to do is look with more avid attention.

Um. Yeah, no. No can do, little fella.
The authorities would frown.

Unlike the feathered fluffball in my apartment mate's room, I myself am not vested in wild urban harvests. Random fat street people are a priceless resource in San Francisco, like tauntauns and Grateful Dead fans, and we cannot go out there to take their useful bits.

They used to thunder in vast herds across the prairies of this country.

Then the railways came and they were a nuisance.

Now we cannot hunt them anymore.

It's just not done.


The stuffed bird sulks when I tell him this, and weeps very theatrically into the shoulder of the octopus next to him on my apartment mate's bed. Why won't I listen? Why will I not feed a poor starving buzzard? Best bird ever! I am heartless!



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================