hahaist011's Diaryland Diary

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heartbreak at the summit

yo mmh--this is one of the rabbit stories. the rough draft anyway. first quarter was all about expressive writing, and we were studying narrative. to practice plot structure (exposition, inciting incident, climax, etc.), i made them write an assignment called Excuses, Excuses...like why they were late or why they didn't do their homework, etc. then instead of revising to a final-type draft, they made comics. ("The Summit" is this stretch of highway that is, well, high up.)

Heartbreak at the Summit
Yesterday after school, I had to go to go the bank and Basha's. Afterward, I was driving home on 264, enjoying the scenery in the late afternoon sunlight and rocking out to the Clash on the stereo. It was just a typical drive home from Window Rock until I saw _him_, and my life changed forever.
He was hanging out on the side of the road up at the Summit. I admit it: at first I thought he was just a chubby grayish-brown dog, but then I saw the magnificent length of his soft ears, his sleek coat, and his huge nose twitching slowly, hypnotically. A giant, 30-pound rabbit.
As though in a dream, I pulled over to the side of the road. The punk rock on the car stereo seemed to morph into a medley of pop songs from the ‘50s about love and happiness ("This magic moment..."). “He must be mine,” I whispered, and bolted from the car.
I flung myself at his enormous white feet. I could feel my eyes glowing with love, and I cried out to him, “Oh, Giant Rabbit, you can be my best friend and come live at my house!” He blinked, and the gentle look in his eyes turned to surprise. “Don’t be afraid,” I said, stretching out my hand to him, smiling.
Of course, where there’s a giant rabbit, there’re giant teeth. He squinted at my pathetic face, then calmly lowered his massive head and chomped down on my hand. He got to his feet to gallop away, but first delivered a hard kick to my forehead, saying, “Yo, who’d wanna live with you, Ugly?!” And then he was gone.
I lay on the side of the road, battered and bleeding. I thought about retrieving my severed fingers from where he’d spit them out in the sage, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care about something so trivial as fingers when I had lost the one great love of my life. Some time after I passed out from blood loss and grief, the tribal police stopped to help me. They tried to fix me up, but I don't remember much. They told me I just kept saying, “No, leave me alone, I have nothing to live for!”
So, I couldn’t really grade anything or do progress reports last night. Partly because of missing most of my right hand, but mostly because of my broken heart.

the end

4:48 p.m. - 2007-11-07

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