One morning my mother was complaining that the dryer wasn’t working properly. She said it was running, but there was no hot air. Coincidentally, that day the new guy I had started dating back then was coming by to pick me up to go to the movies, so I told my mother that I’d have him look at it. He was an electrician, after all—and a guy—so he could fix stuff. I mean, that’s what guys do, right?
Anyway, when he came by I asked him to take a look. “I don’t work with gas,” he said. But after flashing him my irresistible come-hither eyes and dazzling smile—along with a hug—he willingly obliged.
“Your exhaust hose is probably clogged,” he said as he proceeded to move the dryer away from the wall and disconnect the hose from both the wall and the dryer. “The same thing happened to my dryer and it was filled with lint.” He then reached into the hose and jumped, obviously startled, with a strange look on his face. “There’s something wet…and moving.”
Of course, my mother and I both jumped back at the mere utterance of the word “moving.” What the hell was in there?
He carried the hose over to the trash and tried to wrest whatever was in there out. Squeezing one end, hitting it against the trashcan, whatever he could do to loosen the clog.
Then, oh my goodness, a rabbit’s head emerged from the far end, almost as if the hose was giving birth but without all the blood and guts. The area was, after all, chock full o’rabbits because of the nearby golf course and, apparently, lazy coyotes.
And ITS EYES WERE OPEN!
“It’s alive!” my mother shrieked, making me immediately think of Gene Wilder in Young Frankenstein.
We then carefully manipulated the bulge in the hose. Well, he, then carefully manipulated the bulge in the hose while my mother and I watched, horrified. With a little care and persistence, the bunny was born and s/he hurriedly ran off across the street only to be squashed by a puke-green Kia Soul that was hauling ass up the street.
No, just kidding. S/he was fine, seemingly no worse for wear—but maybe a little singed.
“If carrots got you drunk, rabbits would be messed-up.” ~ Mitch Hedberg