Comedy Short Stories
I cannot believe how far we have progressed as it seems like only yesterday when I became a trainer, promoter and overall boxing expert. Perhaps saying that I am a boxing expert is a bit much, but rather I am an expert in the brutal attack methods of bunnies. I know you are probably thinking bunnies and boxing in a brutal manor? You heard me right as I wouldn't and couldn't make this stuff up. I think you will better understand if I were to start at the beginning as it is an awesome story.
I was working contract IT jobs and it seemed as though my life had gotten stuck in the mud. I had a loving family that lived in North Carolina which I saw all too infrequently. It seemed like my travels took me from one obscure location in America to another. This particular week I found myself held up in North Dakota in a town far too small to be known outside of an Internet search engine.
The day had been long as it took me several planes and a very small car rental to get into town. Food was a top priority and much to my delight they had no fast food restaurants. I was able to locate the only food establishment in town and it did boast of world famous yellow split pea soup in bacon grease. Since I recently had my checkup at the doctor and things were in splendid order, it only made sense to try something world famous. I got a front row seat at the counter so that I could peer into the kitchen and watch the cooks show me a bit of their cutlery magic. After all of my travels, you would think I would have known better than to watch them cook. I had made mistake number 52 of the day.
The bowl of soup arrived and my appetite was no longer a priority as the cooks had poured some strange substance into the world famous soup. I closed my eyes and convinced myself that it would be OK to consume the concoction and I did so while holding my breath. All of the precautions didn't prepare my stomach as it return the liquid to its source. I had to gag to keep it behind my teeth and after several moments of non-enjoyment I pushed the bowl away. My lips found the nearest cup of brownish liquid referred to as home style water by my waitress.
The fifty-something waitress had a worn face but was the sweetest lady I had met recently. We chatted about the weather, delicious food, where the local hospital was located for a stomach pump and how they stayed in business in the middle of nowhere. She enlightened me that they were the best eatery before you arrived in Bismarck. I was intrigued to find out if they had a high school and that football was a favorite way for the locals to be entertained as they aged. The stories continued from her mouth with flawless effort and she knew I was hooked. At first I figured that she wanted a healthier tip, but that would soon be disproved by her interjection of a local pastime, bunny boxing.
My tired eyes, mind and soul perked up as I just had to know more about this topic. She excused herself as the food was ready for the couple in the corner. I tried to warm them that if they ate the food they would surely perish from the ptomaine food poisoning. The couple laughed at me as they thought I was kidding. My bladder needed evacuation as the fourteen power drinks wanted out to rejuvenate the alligators in the sewers. After the huge release my thoughts were once again focused to the story. I rushed back to my distressed seat and she was waiting for me.
She didn't miss a beat in her storytelling as she continued from where she left off. A smile came to my lips as her detail of strapping on miniature boxing gloves painted a picture of silliness. She described a tiny ring that held the two cuddly champions from the local pet store in close proximity. Each deadly bunny had a trainer that kept them apart until the ring of the bicycle bell. She explained that the ring of this type of bell caused the bunnies to go into a blood raged fury. Apparently this no holds barred melee included hopping, punching, kicking, bunny ear stretching and muffled head butts. There were no rules except that carrots were never allowed. This absolute mandate was passed down by the TBBA as one woman came in with carrot scented lipstick. The bunny caught the scent and removed her lips with his front incisors. The description of this event left me a bit confused as I couldn't understand how the lips could be removed while leaving her mustache intact. On a happier note for the victim she was able to have synthetic lips reattached which lead to her win at the local beauty contest. Ironically the winner of the beauty contest was to receive a bunny ready for combat. The officials of the contest thought better of the gift and gave her a parting basket of baked beans, hot dogs and canned cream corn.
The Bunny Boxing Association, TBBA, was headed by a local man named DN which was short for Dakota North. He was a bovine urine specialist for the largest land owner in the area. I was told he was so good at his job he could use sight, smell and taste to determine the bovines' medical issues. I quipped that he would dip his pinky in the urine sample and into his mouth as it seemed more eloquent. As a side note the town faced an epidemic of individuals huffing cow patties. I again chuckled as the picture of young and old townsfolk running around with their head in the cow's ass waiting for a deposit of higher glory.
The night was getting late and the stories kept on coming from my new found friend. I finally stopped her and asked the question of the moment. Can you tell me how I could view bunnies in vicious combat? She returned my smile and was happy that I finally asked the question. She passed me a napkin with instructions and kicked me out the door. A few short minutes later I arrived at my hotel which appeared to be someone's residence with a carport. I found my way to the pillow and my last thoughts were of bunnies.