MONO ISSUE 2 - Flipbook - Page 88
“Those tools are toys,” he said.
“Well, they look like toys.” The shovel was a kid’s version of the soldier’s foxhole tool,
the kind that folds in half, smaller than the real thing, made of pliable, cheap metal but
not a real tool. And there was a garden trowel, also metal but not much for digging a
hole.
“The shovel belonged to Loretta’s brother when he was a kid. He died in Viet Nam,” he
said. We thought about this.
“Oh, the poor girl, the poor kid,” I said, “and now her bunny...”
“The guy where she got the rabbit. He tried to tell her pet rabbits are nervous, high
strung. They get sick easy and can get shocks from weather or get scared easy. If you
don’t treat ‘em a certain way, they can keel over. She didn’t listen to a word he was
saying.”
So, we began to try to dig a hole for Fluffy in the front yard. The ground was very rocky,
and we soon realized the job was hopeless with those tools. We sat on the ground
drinking beer. I don’t know which one of us suggested the idea, but soon we were talking
about a plan for Fluffy’s burial.
There was a city trash dumpster across the street. One of us would put Fluffy in the
dumpster while the other began digging. Then we would both work on the ground until it
looked as if it was a freshly dug hole that had just been filled. Both of us knew this had to
work. Anything else meant more drama, more headaches. I had gotten the idea about
who Loretta was - nutty and maybe even dangerous, not counting the allure of her body and I wanted to be away from her. This way, Fluffy would be “buried,” and I could take
off. We didn’t even consider that the idea was risky and deceptive and wrong. The main
thing was it was going to get the job done and over with.
Although we had agreed on the plan, Eric absolutely refused to be the one to put Fluffy
in the dumpster. We should at least flip for it, I said, but he wouldn’t have it. I always get
the dirty work, it seems. And I did my duty. Walking over to the dumpster, I carried Fluffy
lightly. Such a pretty creature, so soft. I couldn’t help myself: I put Fluffy’s fur next to my
cheek. Then I said goodbye to Fluffy and lay her in a decent looking spot in the trash bin.
Before leaving, I rooted around and found some cardboard and put it over her. Eric and I
made a place in the front yard that anyone would have thought was a recently dug hole,
fairly deep, that had just been filled in. I thought it was a work of art, but the tools were
badly damaged, evidence of our task. We sat on the porch and opened another beer.
Stars began to appear, and we saluted Fluffy, naming one of the stars after her.
Loretta sauntered out in a flimsy kimono. I couldn’t believe my eyes. She sat down
with us, sipping schnapps, and we were all quiet for a few minutes.
“Was Fluffy a Christian?” I asked casually.
“What do you mean?”
“For her burial, I mean. We could put up a little cross for her.”
“No, she was a Buddhist,” she said. We all sipped our drinks and looked at the sky.
“But I think we should have a cross anyway, to show there is a loved one in that spot
who’s passed on,” she said. We agreed seriously.
“Well, I’ll just go get some wood and put it together,” Eric said.
“When are we going to do it, bury her?” Loretta asked. Eric and I looked at each other
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