“Did I mention that you’re a fucking idiot?”, he asked me, whipping out a cigar from his marsupial pouch. He sliced the head, and proceeded to light the tip. A look of twisted satisfaction crept upon his face as he took a calculated puff.
“You’d already established that in our previous installment”, I reminded him. I fumbled my way for the window controls and wound down the passenger window. The sounds of 3 a.m. made their way to the safety of the car.
“Did I? I don’t think I made it clear enough. You know—”
“You talk a lot for a sexually confused rabbit.”
“Oh, well, now. Don’t diss the pouch. I told you, never diss the pouch.”
“Did it just magically appear one day?”
“My mother is a fucking kangaroo, genius.”
“If you’re really a figment of my imagination, I think I’ve outdone myself.”
“Oh, you’d be quick to give yourself credit. Wanker. You can’t find the courage to even return to her house and talk to her. You’re stuck here with me. And for fuck’s sake, can you please move the car off the highway?” He offered me a puff of his Whitley.
“Makes my teeth yellow”, I declined.
“Who’re you trying to look good for? Your mother? Don’t say I didn’t warn you, but you’ve got this morbid fascination with girls who look like your mother. You fucking Oedipus.” He took another puff, and tipped the cigar over the window. “I mean, face it. A girl that takes care of the mess you leave behind, I can understand. But a girl who’s a ringer for the woman who did the job from the beginning? That’s sick.”
“Downright unacceptable to you?”
“Damn straight. Why don’t you see me doing a kangaroo?”
“That’s because you’re about a tenth of its size.”
“No, let me relate something to you. Unlike you, I’m not scared of doing anything, anyone, anytime, at any place. And do you know why?”
“Your life’s mission is to multiply.”
“Damn straight it is! You’re a man, now. You have to lay claim to your territory and pee on it, so to speak. But it’s just fucking sick to do that to someone who resembles the poor woman whose tits you were sucking on for the first time.”
“You know what the problem is? The problem is that anybody who was listening in on this conversation would find it incredibly…what’s the word…derivative…a chockful of bad humour, bad dialogue and understated drama that drags on and on.”
“That’s only because you have a full-on fancy for a bitch who looks like your mother, yet you lack the initiative to fully realize your dreams. It’s pathetic, seeing how fucking perverted you are. But I suppose it’s a good thing that you’ve got some restraint. Otherwise, I’d have to report you to the authorities and inherit your Motley Crue collection.”
“To set the record straight, I don’t have anything for my mother.”
“Sure, you don’t.”
“And you’re not getting my Crue collection.”
“You’re a feisty one.”
“Look, I need a friend right now.”
“You of all people know that I’m always a good sounding board for my brothers.”
“But…?”
“I think you already have a plan of action, and all you want to do is just lay it down with me and carry it out because you just need to tell the fucking world about it. Don’t you, you fucking repressed attention seeker?”
“I despise being called repressed.”
“No, it’s true. I told you. You’re a fucking animal on the inside. You’re like fucking Banner.”
“I’m not anything remotely like the Hulk.”
“‘HULK SEE MAMA WANNA DO UGH UGH! HULK SMASH! HULK CRASH! HULK BANG!’ Fuck it, you’re a perfect example of a very ill, ill boy.”
“May I remind the world that you’re a talking rabbit?”
“Please, go ahead. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m everything you want to be.”
“Cigar-chomping, nihilistic, politcally incorrect, loudmouthed drunkard womanizer?”
“Oh, please. You flatterer!”
“Fuck you. I think I’d pass, thank you.”
“You know what your problem is?”
“I only have one?”
“You’re too fucking uptight. You live your life, trying to be proper, trying to be respectable. It’s not going to help you at anytime. And when you die, you’d look back and say ‘The Rabbit was fucking right‘”.
“I just want to be in a position to do the right thing. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“You should learn how to fucking relax, my friend. Life isn’t meant to be treaded lightly on. You have to go out and take the bull by the horns and milk his wife dry.”
“Barnyard animals now?”
“Fuck you. You’re so…white. So plain. Such a do-gooder. And for what? It doesn’t get you anywhere. You should take after me more. I’ve been with you for so long, yet you never fucking learn.”
“Maybe it’s because I’m better than that?”
“What? A faggot?”
“You’re not exactly a role model for the masses.”
“Precisefuckingly! Individuality gets you attention. And you want attention, you little whore. You’re a twat that’s swelling for a spotlight, even if it’s for a moment, even if it’s in a deep, dark corner.”
“I am better than you.”
“Why? ‘Cause you’re a real man who has a penchant for doing girls who remind him of his mother? You’re a freak. A fucking freak.” Toodles looked around, and took another whiff.
He looked at me, only the way that a rabbit could, when his red, beady eyes staring me down. “Fucktard. Why’re we still parked on the highway?”
