Chapter 1: World 3.5 to 4 — The Rumble-tumble and Banananana

This happens every time when we’re about to travel to a new world, against our will. We are stuffed in a box again, I thumped hard and loud, and everything is shaking — partly from the human’s walking, but mostly from our fast breathing.

How can Betty just sit there without any movement? Wait, did they say 20 minutes? Or hours? Betty just sits next to me, staring at me with her ears up and turning, I can’t tell if she’s mad at me for not remembering how long this torturous world-altering journey will last, as if saying “we’d have heard it clearly if you didn’t breathe so loud,” or, if she’s too scared to move.

I don’t know what to do now. She’s shaking as much as I am but she’s staring at me like it’s all my fault. Is she going to chase and bite me in this carrier barely containing us, or does she need me to come closer for comfort? My body is still shaking from all the thumping and biting on the metal bars, I am tired, I need her. So I spread my body on the bottom of the carrier box, my head right next to her arms. I feel steadier, also physically. 

Who was I kidding, of course she doesn’t need me for comfort. She’s never been one to budge for anyone or anything. I wish I could stand my ground like her, and tell everyone else to bugger off my space. 

But all of a sudden, she moved. Oh crap! I finally found a somewhat comfy way to endure the rumbling and tumbling, please Betty don’t chase me around in this tiny box now. I was relieved, and safe, when I felt her body also starting to spread, mirroring me, back to back. I can sense her breathing, deep and fast, just like mine. 

Slowly, she’s leaning on me more and more. Her body softens as her breaths gradually become slower, and softer. What I wouldn’t give for more moments like this with her. 

Now the whole bottom of the box is covered by our bodies, and the handful of hay the humans put in earlier, when we were still in World Three. It’s way past our bedtime, but I can’t calm my ears down. Plus Betty is kicking my face now and again, when she stretches a little. I don’t blame her at all. 

The noise finally stopped after what felt like an eternity. Betty and I are still leaning against each other, back to back. A part of me believes all is going to be fine as long as we’ve got each other. But the rest of me is trembling to know what’s coming next. Are we going to be fed to snakes? Are there cats waiting for us out there? I don’t hear dogs, that is good. 

Betty’s ears are turning fast just like mine, her whiskers are still tickling my butt really fast, which means she’s also twitching her nose trying to capture as many scents as possible, familiar or foreign — so that we can anticipate what awaits us. 

There’s nothing else we can do except to anticipate. In order to survive, a rabbit can hide, a rabbit can run. 

But we are two rabbits trapped in a box, hidden but well-observed, we have eight legs together, pointing them at all directions, but nowhere to run. What should we be running from? Where to? 

As far as anticipation goes, we never foresaw that we would have been going through so many worlds without even moving. 

Betty jerked up sitting. That’s usually a cue for me to do so as well. After all, she’s supposed to be the calmer one. Here we are, two bunnies sitting in a box, being lifted up and carried around unable to say anything. Perhaps everyone outside will think we are just two well-behaved cats without giving the carrier a second look. 

One of the human thingies carrying us says we’re too heavy. 

Oh the things I’d say to him if I’ve got a voice… Maybe one day. 

Here’s a thump for you.

It’s all quiet now after they put us down. They opened the door of the carrier, but we’re not stupid; there is no way we would jump out immediately, we are not wild hares, rabbits stay hidden and observe for as long as it takes. Unless… unless… What smell is that?! That is not a vegetable, not the smell of pellets, so sweet and intoxicating! It must be a fruit we’ve never seen before. 

Betty is now trembling again, but out of her yearning for this fruit, because I can see my desire for whatever fruit this is in her eyes, too. She only looks like this before she’s about to bite me, chase me, or hump me. Please let me have this, Betty. Just this once. 

I can hear the pair of two-legged giants biting and chewing, Betty’s ears turning in the same direction as mine. We can hear a “nananana” sound as they chew. 

“Do you want a piece of banana?” One of them said, then he held the piece right outside of the carrier door. THAT’s what it’s called. A banananana. Betty is breathing so fast, she even made a slight snorting sound. She hopped out, I followed right after. Because I know although she loves me, she won’t leave anything for me. I took one piece of banana, and it’s the best taste EVER! I wouldn’t mind travelling through 3 more worlds to get to this. I think I speak for the both of us, based on the “nananana” chewing sound also coming from Betty. 

After we finished our bananananas — what a beautiful word for the most delicious fruit — Betty could not stop looking for more. She sniffed everywhere within our fence. Oh, so it seems, we’re now in an area that’s fenced up. When did we step out of the carrier?

There are still bars around us but not on top of us, the fences are about twice our body height. I wonder if water falls from above here, like in our Second World. 

Not far away from where they dropped us off, there are two trays our size filled with hay. Betty is already in one of them chewing away. Have you been here before, Betty? Do you know these people? How are you so trusting? Have you forgotten how you lost the tip of your ear? 

A few minutes have passed, Betty is still chewing, I love the soothing sound when she chews. She chews each strand of hay quickly and thoroughly, I just take a bite as big as possible each time and chew everything together, that’s also why I seemingly chew slower than her. But we might have the same average speed. We should be hired as professional, organic, bio, ultra-quiet lawn mowers that produce natural fertilisers at the same time. Can you imagine being paid one bananana each per hour? I certainly can!

All these thoughts about bananas are making me peckish, I see no hawks above, no crocodiles or cats lurking, hear no dogs barking. Wait, I did hear a dog bark, it sounded close but not quite close at the same time. No sight of it though. I’m pretty sure that except for the two humans, there are no other animals on the same level as us. Time to hop in and join Betty. 

The bedding is soft, I like it. There is hay everywhere in the box, there’s even a bag full of hay above the box. I took a huge bite from the hay already in the box. So many flavours, there’s oat hay — our favourite, oh, some dandelions, too… and there is… meadow hay. It reminds me of our second world a little bit. No time to think about that now. I can now input and output as much as I like in these two boxes. This might be the second best thing of our day. Our fourth world is not bad at all, so it would seem.

To be continued…

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *