Papa had changed his financially irresponsible ways, and long ago traded in the cool, though gas guzzling Audi, for a not so cool, though economical Toyota Sienna. He got it for a smokin’ deal off Craigslist, and reckoned that even after two years of ownership, he could sell if for what he bought it for. It had been in the shop once when it started smoking real bad. He feared the worst…a blown gasket. Turns out, a squirrel was found dead in the engine compartment, it’s lifeless body still warm (though it was unclear if it was heat from the warm engine). Papa Rabbit had a hunch that the lone squirrel crawled into the compartment for warmth on a cold winter night, and simply…never woke up.
Rabbits and squirrels are friends, often sharing CHUNKS duty. Papa thought back to when he was just a ‘lil bunny, and Grandpa Rabbit helped out a needy family of squirrels with a cord of wood during the holidays. Come spring, the family of squirrels showed up at our doorstep with a whole menagerie of nuts, seeds, and more nuts, arranged in an elegant manner. Grandpa Rabbit was moved to tears; rabbits don’t eat nuts and seeds, but it was the thought that counts.
Where were we? Oh yes, it’s amazing how far money will go when you’re a single rabbit: Papa thought back to when he was a bachelor, and all he needed was his whip, gym membership, fresh threads, and a bottle of Obsession for Men; he never thought twice about ordering the guac at Chevy’s “for just $3 more”.
Having a wife and 73 (77?) kids changes things. All of a sudden it’s “put on a sweater if you’re cold” and “driving 70 mph vs. 60 mph absolutely crushes your MPG.”
Papa Rabbit couldn’t do without his music. He loved the ritual of staring at his vertical CD display, meticulously organized in alphabetical order: ABBA up top, Wu at the bottom, and Mazzy Star in the middle (a haphazard collection of one hit wonders and CDs that he found in the two for one bin). He’d gingerly pull a CD from its spot, open the cheap plastic case, lift the CD from its resting place, inspect it for scratches, and carefully insert it into the stereo taking up at least 7% of his room.
Papa had a deep, dark secret: he was a closeted Prime Music junky. He was “turned out” by some kid at work; Papa had downloaded the free version months ago: “this has to be a trick. How can trillions of songs be totally free??” Papa thought to himself. He figured he had spent $3,750 on CDs in his life (375 CDs at $10ea).
What started out as an innocent Prime Music habit turned into a full blown addiction. Mama once caught him in the act; Papa knew Mama had caught him, but they never spoke of it.
Months later, Papa finally came to terms with this…acceptance is the first step: it was time to sell his CDs.
Papa spent one whole afternoon diligently taking pics of his collection, getting the light and angle just right, strategically displaying the more popular acts in his pics (such as The Chili Peppers or The Notorious B.I.G.). He put a great deal of thought into the price point for such a sterling piece of history: there was no way he could take less than $2,000. Papa also made it abundantly clear that the next owner of this “once in a lifetime collection would care for it like I have.” Even adding “I’d leave this collection to my children, but they just wouldn’t appreciate it.”
Papa hit the “post” button, and…waited.
Long story short, he’d continue to wait. It took three long months for Papa to come to terms with the fact that nobody wanted his dumb CD collection. In one, last ditch effort, he posted them for free to “someone who will appreciate them as I have.”
In the end, even this didn’t work. He ended up taking them to Goodwill, taking the tax receipt, and later writing in a “value of $3,750.”
I guess Papa Rabbit got the last laugh after all.