I got a text at 3am the other day. I was getting up at 6 to go on placement and NOT.IMPRESSED. it was my housemate Tom announcing they had found a rabbit in the road on the way home from wherever they had been intoxicating themselves, and had decided to 'rescue it'.
It’s in a box in our living room awaiting its collection by the RSPCA. They named it Gulliver because of its travels. I’ve named it Marinade.
I’ve done the hunter-gatherer thing before, set rabbit traps, watched my uncle ‘dispose’ of them (I say ‘dispose’; it was quite a lot more brutal than that. I’m pretty sure there was quite a lot of eye bulging going on…and that was just on his part.) And eaten said fluffy things in a stew...
On Monday I crunched through quite a few ribs (not mine obv...) and chopped out a human lung with my own hands…
Marinade’s days are numbered.
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