‘Twas late on a Thursday night, which in a technicality would’ve made it a Friday morning.. Well past the birthdays fêtes, bon voyages, and your run of the mill weekend of merriment - I end up at a friends place.. The dwellings of said friend is in a compound of houses designed long long ago in a time far far forgotten.. The house has a lot of character and has been the source of interesting conversations, sounds, stories, and theories: the wooden ceiling in one room is warped like waves, remnants of previous tenants such as Asian characters etched on the doors, weird noises of what we think is a mongoose living in the pitched roof, and stories that we ourselves have lived out between these walls.. like I says, the house has lots of interesting character(s)..
Well past the witching hour, inside in a muddled trip of the warped wavy ceiling and the English mustard colored walls, I listen to the Sherpa pluck his guitar. Throwing licks together, his music makes the room a lot weirder than it already is… I compose myself an excuse and decide that retiring for the evening (or morning) might not be a regretful decision.. wafting past the cigarette smoke, empty bottles, and waves of conversation, I make my way out of the room, to the door, but not before a trip to the washroom for a quick pre-drive slash..
Exiting the house, the darkness swallows my world. Only a white light from the house gates illuminates the walk to my transportation.. Embarking on my 36 step trek past the confines of the house, I come across the most peculiar of characters to encounter on a pre-sunrise homeward bound slog..
In complete late late night silence, frozen, I stand face to face with the definitive example of literary inspired hallucinations, a white rabbit… As the spirit of Lewis Carroll laughed over my head, I start to formulate scenarios: number 1: Stop drinking Absinthe, even if it’s not the really real shit. Did someone poison one of my many tumblers? What sort of hallucination is this? Will the walrus make an appearance? Is this real? Someone put the kettle on? Will the rabbit lead me down a hole? A very happy un-birthday to you too edu. Will the red pill give me truth or should i take the blue one and remain ignorant. Is an attempt for contact with the rabbit in order? I need to investigate the verity of this image..
Just as I contemplated touching the white rabbit, the image of the killer beast from Monty Python and the Holy Grail populates my imagination.. As asinine as it sounds, the thought of a carnivorous white rabbit gnawing off my legs did put me off contact.. time ticking on by as it would for gunslingers at high noon, the notion of proof would be the ultimate savoir to my neuroticism..
Turning the flash on my camera-phone-life-dependent-apparatus, I adjust my stance to capture the rabbit.. in reply, he turns to face me and poses for the picture..
then, in an act that I deem out of character for a white rabbit (but not substantiated since I don’t know any white rabbits or their habits), he hops onto the path by my feet and gets even closer.. Is it trying to tell me something? should I follow him? Is this magic? Someone trapped in this body of a rabbit? Is this djin? He’s at the door to the house, should I let him in? Contemplating my queries, my head begins to ache, or that could have been the circumstances of my demeanor.. I decide to gather further evidence and take another picture..
The idea of ringing the doorbell was a plausible one; bring the guys outside and ask them if they see what I’m seeing.. Maybe I should let the rabbit into the house, cause the thought of it being the spirit of a previous tenant who died there was not too far out of my head..
and then in a moment of clarity, I looked at the time, assessed my state just before sunrise, reflected on my drive home, looked at the comrade in question, and decided that sleep sounds much better than running around the garden trying to follow a silly fucking rabbit...