Tuesday, November 14, 2006


By Randall Crick

For the first time in the history of the Thornton County Fair, the rabbit contest had ended in a tie.

"Impossible!" Bill Johnson cried as he gently stroked his Flemish Giant. "Clearly, I have the superior rabbit!"

"That's bullshit and you know it," Jimmy Springer replied, fists clenched. "I wouldn't take 10 of your Flemish Giants and a bottle of the finest Tennessee whiskey for my one Silver Marten. He is truly the Cadillac of rabbits."

The last thing anyone wanted was a repeat of the Pilkston Rabbit Show Massacre, but the situation was clearly beginning to spiral out of control. Then someone in the crowd spoke up: "The Dance of the Lepus! You must perform the Dance of the Lepus to break the tie!"

No one had witnessed the Dance of the Lepus in a generation, but it was quickly agreed that this venerable ritual was the only way to resolve the situation. One of the judges clapped his hands, and several 4-H members appeared with two large rabbit-ear headpieces and matching rabbit-foot slippers. They also carried the requisite salad tongs, tambourines and furry white loincloths.

Soon the crowd was cheering wildly as Johnson and Springer hopped around the stage in full regalia. The judges could award only one blue ribbon, of course, but on that magical Saturday night, it seemed like everyone was a winner.

(Author and state representative Randall Crick, D-Porkville, is known far and wide for his charming tales from the heartland.)

1 comment:

Hugh Jorgan said...

They hadn't witnessed that dance in a generation, you say...?

Was it a human generation, or a rabbit generation? Big difference, you know.