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As a rule, rabbits don’t look forward to Christmas. After all, it has nothing to do with them; unlike Easter, when they are stars, along with Jesus. That is, for just one rabbit who lived in Hastings and had a cross-shaped marking on his tummy, so his mistress called him Jesus for a joke. The joke stuck, and in their house, at Christmas lunch, he would have a seat at the head of the table, and at the end he would be given all the sprouts that the other children had left on their plates.
True to form, on Christmas Eve, at 9 o’clock, Jesus woke up and, after a light snack of grass, did his stretches, even though he didn’t need to, as rabbits stay quite fit without doing stretches. At 10:30 he smartened up his hutch and straightened his straw bed, so that after lunch he could have an extra-long nap in the comfy warm straw. At 12 o’clock he licked his coat white and fluffy, so he looked like a king or a snowball, and waited to be collected.
At 1 o’clock nobody came. Instead, his mistress played with her Nintendo, and the game was so good she ate all her sprouts and completely forgot about Jesus.
Everybody did.
March 31, 2025