Rabbit in Paris
by Zsolt Stanik
People are
unique creatures. Everyone has something the
other does not and those who are "different"
sometimes defy usual practices. Others will then
touch their foreheads and say things like “how
crazy can you get". But these special people
believe it is they who are absolutely normal.
There was a
man who knew how to be special and how to enjoy
himself in the process of ignoring his neighbours
and society. Jean Lefebre, an extravagant
Parisian painter. Like many I hear you say. Well,
Jean was more extravagant than most. Tall, skin
and bone, aged fifty or thereabouts, with a proud
head of thick, albeit greying hair falling down
on to his shoulders, a fine moustache with upward
turned tips, stiffened with beer, smoothly shaven
face and a hairy chest, proudly demonstrated to
the world by an unbuttoned, chequered shirt, worn
casually over his jeans. The sleeves were rolled
up his long arms to the elbow. On his neck he
wore a silk scarf and on the left ring finger a
huge gold ring with a protruding gemstone, which
could be used as a weapon. The trouble was that
during the cold winter, he found it extremely
difficult to find gloves that would fit his left
hand. On his feet he wore large, leather, lace-up
shoes with thick soles.
He lived in a
vast studio in the loft of a large nine-storey
building, in Paris. The layout of the studio was
as peculiar as its owner and consisted of a large
hall and tiny auxiliary rooms e.g., bedrooms, a
kitchen, a toilet, a bathroom and a walk-in
closet. The ceiling of the large hall was fully
glazed, which gave Jean the impression of living
in the open air: the sun, clouds and sky above
and green grass under foot. Yes, lush green grass
covered three quarters of the floor area of the
studio. The floor was insulated, covered in earth
and a computer controlled drainage system, which
not only irrigated the grass but also supplied it
with nourishment. It was intentionally full of
weeds – goodies like dandelions, clover and
the like. The system was by no means cheap. But
his love of rabbits outweighed the costs. During
the day it was inhabited by six lovely rabbits,
named after his girlfriends, regardless of the
sex of his lovely pets. “I could”, Jean
argued, “have a large rabbit farm if I were
to use the names of all my girl-friends”. At
that time there was Simone, Denise, Margarette,
Tereze, Claudette and Antoinette. They all had
enough to nibble, a free range to hop about in
during the daytime and a cosy bedroom in one of
the closets. This closet was open all day and
served as an area for their droppings with airing
windows, that opened and closed, controlled by an
automatic system. Jean even loved the very
specific odour of his pets. He operated a
computer-controlled droppings-evacuation system
and cleaning system. This allowed him to enjoy
his pets and fully devote himself to painting.
Jean also
loved to work to the tones of music, namely
American jazz from the 1920īs. He believed his
pets, especially his favourite Denise, loved this
kind of soothing music. He would simply do
anything to make the lives of his pets as
pleasant as possible. He wanted his rabbits to
eat like kings in an environment fit for royalty.
And to achieve this he would do anything.
One fine,
bright morning he looked down and lo and behold,
just below him on the balcony of the eighth floor,
he saw that his neighbour, Anne-Marie had a
kitchen garden. Meaning, not only flowers, but
also exceptional goodies to eat, such as lettuce,
peas and beans. What a feast for my beloved pets,
Jean thought. And then he designed a plan, one
that would naturally, only work in the absence of
Anne-Marie. On that very day Jean went into
action, shopping for a long rope and baby safety
straps with tiny panties, size Rabbit. When he
got back he meticulously put together a fitting
rabbit suit with openings for rabbit legs. “Now
my darlings you will do something no rabbit has
ever done before. And it will not take long and
it will be beyond anything any rabbit has ever
dreamt of," said Jean. And he ran downstairs
to find out whether or not Anne-Marie was home.
He rang the doorbell but no one answered, so he
decided to start the experiment immediately. He
ran upstairs took Simone, dressed her up in the
safety straps and slowly but surely let her down
on the rope. Safely on the 8th floor balcony,
Simone headed straight for the lettuce. Jean gave
her some time to feed and then pulled her up. The
other four followed suit with Denise, the
favourite, being lowered down to the finest
vegetables. He had no intention of devastating
the vegetable garden below, because in his plan
of action, this definitely was not to be the last
time. He gave each of the four, a taste of the
goodies, offered them what he believed was a
pleasant experience, which he himself had enjoyed
tremendously and then pulled them up again. What
would Anne-Marie have to say, he wondered. He
knew she loved pets – but did she also enjoy
rabbits? He would soon get the answer to that
question.
Two days later,
Jean was giving his beloved Denise a taste of
paradise, when Anne-Marie unexpectedly returned
home. She opened the balcony door to air her flat
when she caught a glimpse of the rabbit-paraglider
coming down from above. “Now, this must be a
bad dream”, she thought, as she watched the
scene. Denise comfortably landed onto the
vegetable patch and Anne-Marie was furious. All
the more when she discovered that the rabbit was
devouring her best lettuce. She ran for the
scissors and cut the rope.
Jean was in
total shock. There was nothing he could do. He
knew Anne-Marie was no tame shrew and that there
was no place for discussion with a lady who was
holding good fresh meat which had fallen from
heaven, and had just attempted to devour her
vegetables.
Yes, Anne-Marie
loved rabbits, especially in cream sauce. Jean
was to find out in a few days’ time. “For
the unprecedented roguery, Mr. Lefebre,” she
screamed, “I have eaten your rabbit.”
But that was not enough. She went on to vent her
fury by laying out the bones of poor Denise on
the balcony floor, on display for Jean to see.
Someone else might have pulled the bones up, say
farewell, and lay the bones to rest. Not so Jean.
He was simply different. Following the procedure
of the tragic event, he intended the ceremony to
be mediated through the pleasant feelings of
another pet. A pet dog would respond, he thought.
He would love the bones. I could then embrace him
and a bit of that warmth from Denise would come
back to me, he thought. And so, shortly after he
had designed this plan, he borrowed a nice black
poodle from a lady, who was walking her dog in
the nearby park. The owner of the dog, who gave
her consent to Jean’s plan, stood under Anne-Marie’s
balcony and watched Jean airing her poodle above.
A crowd soon assembled. People do many strange
things; they all thought and touched their
foreheads. The poodle licked the bones laid out
on the balcony. Satisfied Jean pulled him up. He
then embraced the poodle and felt the warmth of
his beloved Denise being transferred to him
through this peculiar medium. Jean then returned
the poodle to his owner.
The King is
dead, long live the King, Jean thought and
decided to name his new pet rabbit after Beatrice,
another girlfriend.
So what do you
think – was Jean, painter, artist and rabbit
lover out of his mind?
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