Opposite Day #4

For Scott, bringer of the cotton-candy, smiley, Peep-colored banner that radiates nice tummy rubs and generates all kinds of "Here, let me get that door for you," feelings: A Fairy Tale.

Once upon a time there was a man who lived alone in a smallish condo on the second floor of a three-story building. Every morning he woke up to the sound of birds snacking on the feeder he kept just outside the window, and he would smile for the only time in a day spent working long hours falling short of his potential. He spent his nights eating cold pot pies and browsing online dating sites, credit consolidation sites, dating sites, credit consolidation sites, and dating sites using the wireless service he stole from either the family with the screaming children downstairs or the family with the screaming children upstairs. The birds went somewhere else at night, he didn't know where. Only that they weren't there. He looked for them.

One morning he woke up and the birds weren't snacking. The man didn't smile. There was a haggard gray rat sitting on his torso. Also not making him smile.

"There's a rabbit in your kitchen," the rat said, looking over his hairy shoulder. "I'm pretty sure he ate your birds."

The man squinted at the rat. He should look into getting some venetian blinds or something, seriously. The rat squinted back.

"He's in there ransacking shit." He pointed with his tail. "I don't know, you should go kick him or something."

The man stood up suddenly, spilling the rat onto the carpet. In the kitchen there was a rabbit with brown fur snuffling for crumbs along the floorboards. The man stared.

"Please," the rabbit whispered. "My wife just had a baby."

"Snort," said the rat.

"We live... we live just under the ventilation shaft? And my wife just had a baby, a little girl. Hannah, she's beautiful." A tear dripped onto the linoleum. "But she's... she's really small, you know? She's so perfect, but oh, she's so small." The rabbit wrung his front paws together. "And my poor wife, she's weak and hurting... I just, I was just thinking if I could get her to eat something."

"He's lying," the rat intoned, jumping onto the man's shoulder. "He just ate six birds, I saw him. He does this all the time. Look," he said, pointing, "he has blood on his paws. Guilty."

"We didn't have the money for a doctor," said the rabbit. "I did the best I could." He bit his whiskers. "I... I just did the best I could."

"Hey," barked the rat. "Who are you gonna believe? The guy covered in blood? Or the guy who came to you, tried to level with you, help you out?"

The man looked at the rat. Then he looked at the rabbit. Then he looked at his empty bird feeder.

In one swift motion, he launched forward and punted the rabbit as hard as he could in the stomach.

"Whoa ho! Field goal!" yelled the rat, holding his arms up. From his shoulder perch he looked the man in the face. The rabbit crumpled himself against the far wall, shaking.

"I ate your birds, by the way," the rat said, "that was me. But man," he chortled, checking his watch, "who doesn't love watching a rabbit get kicked in the stomach?"