TO LIVE IN A HOLE IN THE GROUND

BY TOM VAN GEMERT

It was early afternoon and the sun baked the small clearing of a backyard where Carl Maunder was digging a hole. He was down to his knees in the earth yet he hadn’t sweat a drop. This was due to his slow movements and the breaks he took every five minutes. It was around this point in time when a rabbit by the name of Spriggin came skipping by and, upon seeing Carl, became curious.

"Good day,” said Spriggin after he had made himself comfortable on a tree stump.

Carl turned around abruptly and then mumbled a “hey.”

“What’s the hole for?”

Carl smiled a bit and rested his palms over the end of the shovel, “I’ve decided to live underground.”

This reply made Spriggin chuckle, “Whatever for?”

Carl went back to his relaxed digging, “I’ve had it with life. An hour ago while I was watching TV, it hit me........how easier everything would be to just go into the backyard, dig a hole, and live in it. So here I am........about to do just that”.

Spriggin lost his smile, “Are you mad? You are a human - the best life that is.”

“Oh you have it all wrong,” Carl replied, grinning and leaning again on his shovel, “The human life is not glamorous. There is a significant amount of stress. Stress that I could do without. Now your life on the other hand.....the life of a rabbit. Now that is glamorous,” he mumbled as he eased back to digging.

“Glamorous you say?” retorted Spriggin, crinkling his brow. “I have never heard of such nonsense.”

“If I could live the life of a rabbit.....to lay around in a hole all day and come out every now and then to eat......I would definitely do so.”

Spriggin’s face turned a reddish tint and his whiskers twitched. “Well if you are so sure of that, why don’t we swap lives for a time. It won’t take long before you realize who’s life is the better.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” replied Carl, “I like a good wager.....especially those I know I’ll win.”

So Spriggin gave his rabbit ears, tail, and feet to Carl who in turn gave Spriggin his clothes, license, and house key.

Carl, with the use of his new rabbit feet, soon had a nice hole dug for himself and upon its completion lay down for a nap. Spriggin quickly ran into Carl’s house and began exploring all of the wonderful household appliances and furniture.

Early next morning, Spriggin awoke to a strange sound in the kitchen. He hopped out of bed and dashed downstairs to find Carl heating instant oatmeal in the microwave.

When asked what he thought he was doing, Carl jumped back startled, his rabbit nose pumping like a jackhammer, “Making a little breakfast of course.”

“Rabbits don’t eat oatmeal. They eat grass and vegetables. Now go away or you’ve lost the wager!,” Spriggin shouted, shooing Carl out the door with a broom.

Later that day, while watching television, Spriggin turned to find Carl sitting on the windowsill, his wide, black eyes staring at the screen.

“This is your last warning”, said Spriggin. “If I find you in this house again, you lose our wager. Do you understand?”

“Sure I understand. But can you switch to channel 9 real quick? I want to see what’s going on in Days,” asked Carl.

“Your pathetic.” Spriggin replied, pulling the drapes.

Drooping his floppy head, Carl muttered obscenities as he walked back to his hole.

The next morning when he awoke, he felt his stomach and winced. After glancing at a piece of squash in the corner he looked down at the dirt and tightened his jaw.

“Alright you win,” he sputtered when Spriggin answered the door.
Spriggin laughed and began brushing potato chip crumbs off his shirt. “That didn’t take long,” he finally managed.

“So I’d like my body back now,” Carl mumbled.

“Oh,” replied Spriggin, glancing at his watch, “You know what? The Young and the Restless is about to start and I have to see if Cole finds out that Ashley’s pregnant. I’ll get back to you, okay?”

The door slammed shut and Carl heard the faint thud of the deadbolt sliding into place. After fifteen minutes of scratching and kicking at every outside door, Carl hopped up onto the ledge of the living room window and whimpered. With his dangling ear pressed up against the glass, he could hear, ever so faintly, the theme song.

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