I remember hearing my grandpa complain to my momma that her brother, Uncle Bobby, “had gotten another wild hare up his butt”, shook me up so bad. I hated fleet enemas.
I didn’t know how it coulda happened, and then I thought about how my mother would panic when I would run out of the house naked when I was younger. We had a garden full of wild rabbits.
I told that pesky Sue Ellen about it when she found me sitting on the porch thinking about my poor Uncle Bobby, only because she was bugging me and I’d hoped she’d go away. She did. But, I got in trouble because of her anyway.
She went and asked my momma if she could have the rabbit stuck up Uncle Bobby’s heinie after he was done with it. She promised to give it a bath. My grandpa laughed so hard his choppers fell into his lap. My momma liked to turn me into a rabbit pulling on my ears so hard. She told me I musta gotten my puh-verse mind from my father’s side of the family as she marched me into the bathroom and gave me my choice of Castile or Dial soap.
I wondered as I stood there making mouth bubbles if I would always be plagued by women troubles.