||[Aug. 10th, 2007|12:03 am]
Would it be fast or slow?
"Fuck." I thought to myself. "It's dead."
My mind was going at a mile per minute, thinking of the family I ruined, thinking of how I would have to look at the body. Everyday when I leave in the morning everytime, for the next few weeks, or however long until something bigger, something hungry, came along, I would have to look at this mess.
It would be easy to blame it on the weather. The roads were wet, that's out of my hands. "What was he doing in the road anyway? At his age he should've known to avoid it." I said to myself, trying to rationalize what just happened. Trying to find somewhere else to place the blame. It was my fault though. I don't know what I was looking at, why I wasn't looking ahead, but the fact is I wasn't.
All of this, rushing through my head in the matter of a second. It never even occured to me to stick my head out the window, and look down. Right there, a few feet clear from the path of a danger, the path of my trucks travel, was the bunny.
Before, When I look up and saw him, I had jerked the wheel to the right, since he was coming from the left. I didn't do it conciously, it was just an instinct. I didn't think it had worked, since he still dissapeared below the horizon that is my truck's huge hood.
I was a little mad, looking down at the bunny. He was lucky tonight. As he hopped away, saying "bunnie bunnie bunnie," as they always do, I wondered if he knew how lucky he was.
CLIFF NOTES: Driving through my hood, I almost hit one of the bunnies that have moved in, but I didn't.