After the photo shoot was over, the Mad Bunny asked Alice to make him another one of her majestic joints. The secret of a good joint is in the weed, and the secret of good weed is that you can never get enough of it. The Mad Bunny knew this. He also knew that he could learn a lot from someone who rolled such perfect joints.

He watched intently as Alice carefully placed the weed on the paper, rolled it between her fingers, lifted it up and licked it with what could only be called a perfect lick. Maybe that was the trick? Just when he thought he had it all figured out, he noticed that Alice did something strange. Holding the folded papers between her hands, she brushed the centre of the joint with her chin, sticking the papers in the middle, then used her fingers to even them out. Wow!

“I saw that chin thing you just did. It was so quick I almost missed it.” he looked at Alice with open admiration. She smiled as she handed him the joint.

Mad Bunny held it up and inspected it from all sides. “Who would have thought that it’s the chin that plays such an important part in making of a perfect joint? Who taught you this?”

“Nobody taught me anything. I don’t have the patience for teachers or preachers. I don’t have the need to impress anyone by accumulating unnecessary knowledge. I learn as I go, if the need arises. And in this case, the need arose.” Alice flashed out a lighter in Mad Bunny’s face. “Let me do you the honors.” she said as she leaned forward and lit the doobie for him.

Inhaling deeply, the Mad Bunny savoured the citric taste that filled his lungs. It felt like heaven.

“It’s like smoking candy, isn’t it?” Alice asked. She must have read his thoughts.

“Like smoking candy.” Bunny echoed her words. They were so true. And all great truths deserve to be repeated.

“So when did the need arise, Alice? The need for you to learn to make perfect joints?”

“When I got tired of begging friends to roll them for me.”

“Oh? And when was this?”

“I don’t know…” she shrugged, “A few lifetimes ago.”

Interesting girl, this Alice. I think I’d like to get to know her better. “How many lifetimes have you lived so far?”

“Too many to keep track of.” Alice thought for a moment. “I guess I was lucky in a way.”

“I think you were lucky in more ways than one.” said the Bunny, eying her from head to toe. He liked Alice. There was something about her, maybe that air of resignation that was exclusive to those who have watched their dreams die in their hands. He wondered about her dreams. He wondered about her hands too.

Alice liked the Mad Bunny. She had a prominent proclivity for strange, weird and crazy, and the Mad Bunny effortlessly complied with all of the above. He appeared to be strikingly authentic. Had she met him in some past life, she would have found him irresistible. But now, after having gone through so many lifetimes, she knew better. A bunny was a bunny, and her experience told her that behind all that madness, the only authentic thing about him was his bunniness.

Bunnies…. you can’t live with them, you can’t live without them.


Photograph from the series Mad Bunny by Yves Lecoq

Alien, alienated. That's me.

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