Mr. Fox and Rabbit – Part 6

“Yes – now, I know what it means, but I am sure Dr. Bear doesn’t, so please explain to him what OOYFE is.”
“OOYMFETAI.”
“That’s what I said.”
Mr. Fox intoned with relish. “Out Of Your Mind For Even Thinking About It.”
“I will try to explain it to you in words you will understand, Rabbit. She is… She is like a succulent carrot, jealously guarded by other rabbits, intruding upon my every waking moment with unspoken promises of a vegetable medley.”
“Unspoken.”
“Uhm… Oy.”
“This is all in your head, isn’t it?”
Rabbit chewed on some valerian root.
Mr. Fox said something.
Dr. Bear chuckled. “You need healthy, natural sleep.”
The small shrew (was he really a shrew? Rabbit resolved to look this up sometime. He had an ominous feeling he was really a lupine or a legume, although upon further reflection he discarded the latter as a bean) drew himself up to his full height of 1.9 feet. Sarcasm flowed wide and free from every …nay, syllable is insufficient, from every letter. “I bet she is your, you know, SOULMATE.”
Perfectly Frank blushed and stammered with unbridled, stupid joy. “Oy…!”
Rabbit shut his eyes. In a frozen whisper, he begged. “Can I fry him now, Dr. Bear? The catnip is nearly gone.”
The ursanoid felt sorry for him. “I don’t know how to tell you this… But as long as my ass recreates the dead as gaseous anomalies, frying them is strictly a temporary solution.”
In an effort to break up the awkward tension, Mr. Fox clapped his paws together (the claws clicking like knitting needles in a blender) and yelled out loud. “Well! It’s time for some music!”
Mr. Fox hooked up his I-Pod ® ™ into the tree. The giant oak began to resonate with glorious, crystal clear notes.
“Wow! That’s a really wicked tune, Mr. Fox. What is it?”
The Fox blushed. “Well, actually, this is not ‘tune’ yet. The Tree has a crush on my I-Pod and every time they hook up she breaks into song.”
Rabbit slowly sauntered over to where the white wire plugged into a crack in the wood. His delivery was deadpan. “I am looking at… I am listening to sex between an electronic device and a tree.”
Mr. Fox nodded enthusiastically. “You should hear it when I try to go near her with my old Discman. She would rather kiss a termite.”
The amazing, crystalline sounds faded with a satisfied, resonant sigh. The inside of the tree suddenly filled with cigarette smoke and the notes of Mr. Fox’s I-Pod.
“Jesus Christ Superstar?”
“Pilate and Christ. I don’t like the other songs.”
Dr. Bear frowned. “I liked the last song better.”
“That was not a song, Dr. Bear. That was the tree cumming.”
Perfectly Frank sighed. “You are so crass, Rabbit. Love is a beautiful thing. Why can’t you say …’that was the tree in the throes of passion?”
Rabbit grinned. “Sure. That was – this is the tree in the throes of passion.” He casually plucked the I-Pod’s plug out of the tree (cutting off Pilate passing judgment on the Lord in mid-sentence) and reinserted it in the same motion. The crystalline sounds started up again.
Dr. Bear sighed happily.
Rabbit cocked and swiveled a gigantic, flappy ear, analyzing the sounds. “She sounds a touch frantic.”
Mr. Fox sounded apologetic. “Well, she is used to him coming over, hooking up, doing a short playlist, falling asleep, withdrawing, and leaving.”
The sounds built to a glorious crescendo and started to fade again. Rabbit repeated the procedure, taking his time with the plug, looking for a good crack in the wood.
“Rabbit… The tree is shaking.”