“Who are you?” asked the rabbit.
I was scared but a glimmer of courage tried to surface above my fear and my chest expanded as I whimpered, “I’m a man!”
“You’re a what? Speak up. I can’t hear you.”
“I’m a man,” I uttered a little louder.
“No, you’re not — you’re just a boy. A small insignificant one at that.”
“No, I’m not…”
“Small or insignificant?”
“I’m a man…,”
“Why do you feel compelled to lie?” interrupted the rabbit. “I can see that you are a boy. Do you really think that you can fool me into thinking something other than what I already know? It’s obvious that you’re a boy, and I didn’t ask, ‘What are you?’ Despite your lies, I can see what you are. I asked, ‘Who are you?’”
I was starting to feel uneasy. Nobody had ever questioned what I had said before, especially a rabbit ten times bigger than me.
“I’m not ten times larger,” stated the rabbit.
“I didn’t say you were ten times bigger,” I answered, wondering how this fat rabbit knew what I was thinking.
“Nor am I fat.”
I decided not to think, thinking that’d fool it.
“No, it won’t, and I’m not an it — I’m a him. It is both arrogant and foolish to believe that just because something could fool you, it could fool everyone else, including a rabbit, and what are you doing in my burrow?”
“You’re what?”
“My burrow — my rabbit hole?”
My eyes had adjusted to the light and I saw I was deep underground and there were several tunnels leading off in different directions. Above there was a gleam of light
“Well?”
“I came looking for a rabbit,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because I wanted a pet rabbit,” I explained.
“A pet rabbit? How were you going to get a pet rabbit?”
“I was going to reach down a rabbit hole and pull one and take it home.”
“And then what?”
“Put it in a cage and keep it as a pet.”
“Do I look like the kind of rabbit that wants to be your pet?”
“No.” I admitted. “You’re too big.”
“Where did you come from?” demanded the rabbit.
“I fell in a rabbit hole,” I said still wondering how I could have fallen into such a small hole.
“That part is obvious,” said the rabbit. “I watched you tumble down and land right there in front of me. I didn’t ask you how you got into my hole. I asked you where you came from.”
“You mean, where do I live?”
“That would be a start.”
“I live with my mum and dad in one of the cottages down the lane next to the canal where the bridge is near where I sometimes go fishing for fishes,” I explained.
“So why did you come all this way to kidnap a rabbit?”
“To whatnap?”
“Kidnap — to steal a friendly rabbit.”
“You ain’t friendly,” I defended. “You’re a wild rabbit.”
“I may be a rabbit that lives in the wild, but there’s nothing wild about me. Do I look wild?”
“You ain’t very friendly, so you must be wild,” I offered.
“You’d act wild if someone tried to kidnap you,” explained the rabbit. “Why don’t you get yourself pet fish out of the canal, and by the way, they are not fishes — they are fish.”
“What?”
“You said you go fishing for fishes?”
“Yes,” I answered honestly.
“Yes! Fish — not fishes.”
“Who cares?”
“I do.”
“Well, I don’t,” I answered, glancing up at the exit wondering how I could get out.
“Now what would you like to know?” demanded the rabbit, observing my glances.
“How to get out,” I answered, feeling a little braver.
“Try walking out.”
I didn’t quite trust the rabbit. After all, it could speak — therefore, this was no ordinary rabbit, and I knew enough to know that if I didn’t understand something, I shouldn’t trust it.
“Just because you haven’t heard a rabbit speak before, it does not make it any less of the fact that you are talking to one. You are talking to me aren’t you?”
“I could be dreaming.”
“Oh, you do have a lot to learn, don’t you?”
“About what? I know everything,” I said, still trying to act brave.
“So you’re back to telling more lies!” sighed the rabbit.
“I ain’t lying,” I defended.
“Regardless of whether you are lying or not, you are certainly doing a lot of talking. You’ll be amazed what can be accomplished once you give your tongue a rest and give your brain an opportunity to function. So, if you know everything as you claim, why is it you don’t know how to get yourself out of this hole?”
“So what if I don’t know everything. I suppose you know everything.”
“I certainly know how to get out of my hole”
“Oh yeah! How?” I was starting to feel confident.
“Personally I find it convenient just to hop out.”
“And what else do you know?”
“Not much…”
“Ah ha, I thought so,” I interrupted, my confidence level suddenly soaring.
“Not much,” repeated the rabbit. “But then, it’s not what you know that is important, but how well you apply what you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for example — you claim to know how to get out of the hole, but you seem to be incapable of putting that knowledge into practice. You also seem convinced rabbits don’t talk, and yet, here you are, talking to me — a rabbit.”
The rabbit did have a point, but sensing the strategic advantage of the attack, I gave him my best shot, “Oh yeah, and what else do you know?” I sneered.
“It would seem that your knowledge base needs some adjustment. Come back tomorrow and I’ll tell you some things you ought to know,” answered the rabbit calmly.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes,” stated the rabbit as it turned a left down one of the tunnels.
I climbed out of the rabbit hole into the sunlight and sat on the grass for a while. Then I went home.
. . .