‘You’re a rabbit and he’s a…’
‘A what?’
‘I don’t know. A horse.’
‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’
‘It means you’re not compatible, you idiot. You know that old saying, how does it go again? Never shall the rabbit mate with the horse.’
‘Well, there hasn’t been much mating recently, to tell you the truth.’
‘You don’t say. I’ve seen the way you hold hands. It’s like you’re both trying to escape but really politely.’
‘That’s not fair.’
‘It’s perfectly fair. Now call him. Call it off.’
‘And say what?’
‘I don’t know. Just do it. I’m sick of your sad bunny face.’
‘I think I’ll say I’ve got a headache and can’t see him tonight.’
‘You’re just putting it off. You’re going to have to do it eventually, you know. It’s like that plaster thing.’
‘What, that it’s better to just pull it off quickly? Short-term pain for long-term gain?’
‘Well, I meant that you’re trying to fix a gaping wound with a plaster, but yours works pretty well too.’
‘OK, I’m going to do it. I’m a rabbit, he’s a horse. I’m a rabbit, he’s a horse.’
‘You’re not actually going to say that, are you?’
‘No?’
‘No. Because now I come to think of it, he does look a bit like a horse. You know, that nose. He might be sensitive about it. Tell him you’re a rabbit and he’s a guinea pig. Just do it quickly, I’m starving.’
Laura Pearson
Laura Pearson lives in Leicestershire, where she blogs and writes novels and flash fiction.