photo credit: nblumhardt

The rabbit magistrates conferred.

At the conclusion of the meeting, they resolved to write a law so convoluted and prolix, that no bunny or fox or human could ever hope to read or comprehend it in their lifetime. The rabbit magistrates would thus be able to make any judgment they wanted in whatever situation and have no-one to answer to. Two thousand bucks were put to work devising the Great Law. Not one of them was allowed to take a break or get fresh air, because that could increase the clarity of the document, something to be avoided at all costs. The bucks survived on sandwiches with lettuce and twigs, and only keystrokes were heard, incessantly.

It wasn’t long, though, until a not even educated young buck called Zirkem started to paw through the Law in his free time. He went through it very slowly and meticulously, concentrating on just one subparagraph spanning 215 pages. It took him two months, and after those two months he dug his way out of his mountain of notes and made an announcement to his doe-eyed compatriots: each bunny, by law, is entitled to a ration of 3300 balloons.

For almost a week, life was perfect. Every morning saw the arrival of truck convoys bringing thousands upon thousands of balloons in every colour imaginable. The world became balloons and there were many surprise encounters whilst playing and living life amongst them, often leading to new families, because that’s the rabbit way. A lively trade started in rare balloons, and all rabbits regardless of responsibilities felt they were living a life of leisure in the comfortable embrace of countless balloons.

Clearly it couldn’t last. It was no fun for the magistrates. They no longer had sway over the populace with all those balloons obscuring the bunnies’ whereabouts and activities. They called upon exception f to the subparagraph covering the ration of balloons, which was not included in or referred to from the subparagraph, but included in a different chapter and referring back to it. The exception supposedly stated that only bunnies who were diagnosed with balloon deficiency could own balloons. The bunnies, tearful about losing their precious balloons, called upon Zirkem to confirm the tenor of the exception.

Zirkem started to study the Law once more, but gave up after just one page. Instead he paid a visit to his doctor and found him willing to diagnose every single bunny with balloon deficiency who visited his office. And so the Great Queue started.

A day later the magistrates announced a 26 layers deep subparagraph of the initial subparagraph which states that balloon deficiency, being contagious, is to be eradicated by extracting the brains from every affected bunny and anyone who has ever come in contact with them. The bunny doctors refused to abide by this law. The magistrates announced all doctors were to be forced. The bunny police refused. The magistrates announced police were to do their duty or receive no lettuce whatsoever. The bunny farmers snuck them lettuce. The magistrates announced that a footnote of the penultimate paragraph states that rabbit magistrates, in case of anarchy, are allowed to live a life of outrageous excess on an island of their choosing.

And so they did. The rabbit magistrates lived happily ever after.

The bunny populace, on the other hand, lived a life of simple pleasures in their balloon world. It lasted almost a week. Then a particular kindle of rabbits mischievously popped a few balloons and it became all the rage to be a Popper. When all the ground was covered in the deflated remains of once beautiful balloons, it was impossible to grow or find food. Gradually all bunnies died unspeakably horrific deaths, with only the most wicked cannibals surviving for any significant amount of time. Blood and entrails and balls of fluff and torn plastic littered the landscape.

Janus Schmeisser kept a vigilant eye on his dog, whom he suspected to be in cahoots with the Falangists. Janus was a 48-year-old native German, Dutch resident, and believed he was living in Civil War-era Spain.

Two of his phones rang. Janus picked one up and muttered in his native language:
- Ja, wass denn?
- Good morning, mister Schmeisser. I’m calling to tell you everything.

Meanwhile, in the park behind his residence, a warren of rabbits were deliberating. They intended to write a law so long-winded and prosy that no-one could ever finish reading it in their lifetime. The rabbit rulers would then be able to use their own judgement in any situation they wished by referring to this law that no-one could possibly understand. Two thousand civil bunny servants were put to work. They weren’t allowed fresh air, as this would benefit the clarity of the document too much. The rabbits lived off carrots and lettuce, and only the rattling of typewriters was heard.

- Tell me what? What do you have to tell me?
- You are mister Janus Schmeisser, German resident of Rotterdam. Your PIN is 8864, which you’ve forgotten twice in your life despite the obvious mnemonic. You stole candy from the local candy store when you were a boy in Bonn, but didn’t like the candy and threw it away. You’re about to hang up the phone and one of your ex-loves aborted a pregnancy you caused but didn’t know about. In the middle drawer of your desk are detailed designs for a new and improved generation of swimming pools. It’s unfortunate that you’ve never showed them to anyone, as a very similar design is now gaining popularity in Eastern Asia. You’re feeling a tad light-headed this very moment and have never admitted to yourself that you get intense pleasure from completing tax forms. You have no idea why you smoke joints in the bathtub, and you distrust people with moustaches because you feel they’re metaphorically hiding something. Now you will believe me when I say that an attractive woman at your work has fallen in love with you, but when you talk to her that will end. However, you must take care to befriend the man she will eventually marry, in which case you will start a very profitable dog-related business together. It will get you in trouble with the police, in a most gratifying way. You’re not sure how you’re feeling right now and I have told you everything. A good afternoon, mister Schmeisser.

There was a click and a thump. And there was lettuce.