The Young Ones (1.1)

Not only was the base of the white cotton bag now an iridescent yellow, Samson was convinced everyone on the bus could also smell the animal’s urea. The man sitting across the aisle from him had eyed his bag suspiciously before removing a bottle of medicated oil from his pocket, uncapped it and took a long hard sniff. The lady behind him was also starting shift about in her seat. He did not turn around to confirm this, but surely she was trying to hint at her discomfort. Soon, the smell would travel to the front of the bus. Samson took a quick look at the signs displayed on the board behind the driver’s seat. They commanded that there be no food or drinks to be consumed on the bus, no durians to be brought on board, and no dogs on a leash. They did not, however, disallow his taking along a rabbit in a bag.

The girl at the pet shop had giggled when he took the bag out.

“I still think you should buy a cage. A small one at least. It's not expensive.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I really have something for it at my house already.”

“But – ” she looked at the one-month old creature in her arms. “Sigh. Poor rabbit.”

“It will just be for a short while.”

“My boss is not here. If he’s here, he will surely not allow you to do this. But if he’s not here, I also cannot lend you a cage.” Her initial amusement was slowly starting to turn into a genuine concern for the rabbit’s wellbeing.

Samson decided he had better cut short their exchange. Who knows what she will insist before handing over the creature. It was still in her arms and the next pet shop was going to be some distance away. Besides, he had his eyes on this one. While the other rabbits scrambled about in the shop window, this dusky grey thing simply paid no attention to its pen-mates and gazed instead, Samson imagined each time he approached the pet shop, at the world outside. A pensive one, he would think, or otherwise sick. But the girl had assured him that it was healthy. “If not, the boss will let you take home another rabbit, no extra charge,” she had chimed confidently. He liked how its head was much darker, almost black, than the rest of his dusky brown body. This gave it a somewhat comical look. Yes, a thoughtful rabbit that one doesn’t take too seriously. He definitely preferred this rabbit to the rest. It was this or none at all.

“Here. You said a hundred and fifteen right?” Samson handed the girl the money from his wallet and was relieved that she took it, placing the creature on the counter beside the cash register while she sorted out his change. It stood still on a laminated advertisement for dog food; its eyes, like its short loppy ears, were downcast.

“Have you kept a rabbit as a pet before?” Samson shook his head, but immediately regretted it. Was this some test? “Oka-a-ay, so do you need any tips on how to care for your rabbit?” Her voice told him he need not worry after all. Now that the deal was done, she seemed to grown a little weary of their exchange and was just as keen to be rid of man and rabbit. In her hand appeared three books she had instantly retrieved from the shelf behind her: Rabbits for Life, A Sick Bunny is Not a Funny Bunny, and the more verbose but reassuring How to Care for Your Rabbit – A Useful Guide for Rabbit Owners. “These are our store’s recommendations. This one is only ten eighty.” She placed How to Care for Your Rabbit next to his thoughtful bunny. “It’s the cheapest. But it’s a useful guide.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Do you need a plastic bag for the book?” She asked as she handed him his change. “Or is it also going into ‘The Bag’?”

“I’ll take a plastic bag. Thanks.”

Samson had lined the cotton shopping bag he brought along with a piece of cardboard. It was one of those unbleached cotton bags given out for free, all the rage for the last two years ever since retailers realised that being “green” was going to endear them to consumers. The one Samson used was taken instead from one of the conferences his editors did not want to attend but had to send a company representative to all the same. The bag had the conference's logo printed on it, a blue stick figure leaping towards a bright orange light bulb with the words “I innovate!” under it. The words and the orange light bulb were now bathed in a large yellow glow and the stick figure had even started twitching. Samson pressed the bell to alight at the next stop. It was all a mistake. He should have just taken a taxi home from the pet shop and not be stingy, not even after spending a hundred and twenty five dollars and eighty cents on a rabbit and a book. Instead, here he was, stinking up the bus and on his way to stinking up the old folks home.


Posted: 29 November 2009