> PARENTAL ADVISORY: Time is an illusion that requires a lot of itself.

the fantastic life and suicide
of mister mary holiday

-- December 19th, 1998 --
""The Sad, Sad Bunny on a Slow Boat to Nowhere."

When Mary regained consciousness, he ached. His skin seared with pain and his eyes were dry and caked with dirt and dust. His face was a discoloured brown and mashed with tender red boot marks that still stung while his head wobbled frightfully. His ankles were tied tightly together as were his wrists behind his back. Double knots. He could feel the brittle rope scraping into his flesh. He searched for one but there was absolutely no memory of how he'd managed to escape, or how he'd managed to get back into the hat, but it was obvious from his surroundings that he had. He pressed his face against the cool marble floor, having to move some crushed soft drink cups out of the way with his chin first. This place is a mess, Mary thought. The cleaning crew should really... He closed his eyes and thought briefly of modern dance. When he felt he could move again, there was no way to do it that wasn't ridiculous. The least painful of which - but by no means completely devoid of pain - was of course, the most ridiculous.

Panicked and running, all while crouched over painfully in the narrow vent, the bunny moved as fast as he could. He could hear the thumping and bending of aluminum; hurried, manic footsteps just two, maybe three turns behind him. He searched desperately for an opening; a loose panel, anything -- but it was all flat and smooth. He had no idea where this thing went. He threw a glance over his shoulder and saw only dark vent twisting off into the distance. He pounded on fiercely. Even with the adrenaline, the fear, the panic, he couldn’t help but be depressed by this situation. Here he was, his life – no, not his life – his well-being in jeopardy and for what? Because these people were infatuated with Mary. It wasn’t as though they wanted him, the bunny. No, nobody ever wanted him. They just wanted whatever part of Mary they could squeeze humiliatingly out of him. He threw another glance over his shoulder and his foot hit empty space. On his way down into the neat, square hole, he grabbed blindly at anything and managed to snag a handle with his paw. The handle belonged to the hatch that was supposed to cover the opening but had been left open presumably by some member of the cleaning crew while at work in the vents. The hatch, under his weight, slammed shut above him and he hung from the handle precariously. A strong wind that had previously gone unnoticed suddenly surged through him from below. He heard, through the rush of the wind, his pursuers thunder past oblivious. His paw hurt badly, his arm strained with his entire weight. He waited a moment. He looked down. There was a very, very dangerous looking metal fan spinning quite rapidly about ten feet beneath him. This was the source of the wind that now threatened to suffocate him. Luckily, however, the bunny didn’t have time to consider either of these things at any meaningful length as the handle chose that exact moment to illustrate that you’re not supposed to hang from handles in ventilation shafts. It did this by snapping off. The bunny braced for something as he fell. Searing pain, meta-death, anything as he sluiced through the fan, but all that came was a slamming, breaking sensation in his lower back as he fell directly onto the center pin of the fan, missing the blades completely. This snapped the fan free of its casing and sent both of them down, smashing into the concrete floor a great distance below. The bunny's head spun, his vision was red hot flashes of terrible injury. He was aware of the pain in his lower back but could not yet feel it in the traditional sense of the word. It was separate. The fan continued to spin wildly from the inertia, jostling the bunny over the blades, sending them inches into his flesh, spreading blood and loose fur all over him. When the fan eventually came to a dizzying rest, he managed to push himself off of it, cutting his paws badly in the process and rolled to the side, collapsing on his stomach, exhausted. And finally he could feel the hot tears welling up inside him, and when he burst; he wailed. Sobbing desperately, like a child who knows no greater pain or humiliation or hurt or sadness. Tears stung his tight eyes as he cried, the feelings shuddering out of him in waves. It wasn't the pain of the fall. He was barely conscious of it yet. It was everything. It was Mary, it was the hat, it was Maxine, it was the meaninglessness and it was the hurt and it was the feeling that it would never, ever get any better than this. "Oh my god!" yelled someone in the most shocked voice the bunny had ever heard. "It's a giant fucking rabbit!!"

"Not popular with the cowboys, Mary?" "Shut your freakin' head-hole and untie me." "Your therapist called," said Maxine. "He seemed really worried about you or something." "Really," said Mary from the floor. "Wow. Untie me." "You'll have to look after things here," she said, applying lipstick. "I can't help but notice," Mary said keenly, "that I'm not untied yet. Now why don't we all try to think of a reason why that would be..." "If you see the bunny," Maxine said, rushing around the room, "tell him to get back to his post in Maryland soon... they were rioting with confectionaries earlier." "Not the confectionaries!" She glared at him. "Sarcasm is unnecessary." "Where the hell are you going?" "I've got a date," Maxine said, brushing out the door. "A date?" Mary said, horrified. "A date is why I'm not untied? This makes no sense!" He rolled around and stuck his head out the door. "You people are weird!" he yelled after her. "And ugly."

Dream-like images of prayer, of washings and steril bandages, cool with the warm sting of antiseptic. Voices in tones he remembered from mass as a child. The bunny dreamt. It was the first dream he had had in a long time. There was a long black river through an infinite desert in the bottom of a giant, towering canyon. The thick, oily water hugged the sides of the slowly rocking, overturned top hat he was sitting disconsolately inside of. He was filthy, covered in several colours of blood, tired and thirsty. He had no provisions and the black water was undrinkable. Behind him, some considerable distance, was a large marquee. It was lit up, mountain sized with carnival lights that still touched him now. It read, "GREAT PAIN AND SADNESS!" Ahead of him were green hills and beautiful blue mountains reaching into the sky. But he regards them with an alienated sadness, disregarding his progression. He has an air of someone who has not belonged, will not belong and is just now beginning to realize this. Warm hands. Thoughts of drowning. "My child." "Mmm," said the bunny in a dry rumble. He cleared his throat slowly, carefully. "Hi," he managed, trying a weak smile. It was strange to hear himself speak again. Like his thoughts were broadcast through a megaphone just behind his head. "Welcome back to the land of the living." "Dead," said the bunny, looking around slowly. His neck ached. His eyes could barely focus. A blurred figure nodded. "Dead, yes, I suppose you’re right." "Where… where am I?" "You are, as we like to call it," the figure said with a gentle smile, "under the underground. My name is Brother Jeremy." "I…" said the bunny, searching for words. He searched Brother Jeremy’s cool blue eyes for a moment. "Thank you." Brother Jeremy turned away. "You were having a nightmare." The bunny closed his eyes. "A black river," the bunny said, leaning his head back. It felt good to express even that much of the dream. It had terrified him deeply. Brother Jeremy nodded knowingly, as if he had heard it before. "May I ask your name?" The bunny hesitated. Brother Jeremy smiled and cocked his head to one side slightly. "It’s all right if you don’t want to tell me. Simple curiosity." "No, no… it’s not that. I just, I…" He felt embarrassed. He could feel his cheeks go warm and was glad for once that he had fur to hide their redness behind. "Nobody’s really ever asked me my name before," he admitted, feeling pathetic and stupid. "Well," said Brother Jeremy, his smile broadening, "allow me to have the honor of being the first then. What is your name, my friend?" The bunny managed a slight smile. "I… well, I don’t know. I don’t even know if I have one…" "What do people call you then?" "They make something up mostly," said the bunny. "Usually something mean," he added. "Well, I don’t think I’ll do that." He changed the subject, sensing the bunny’s discomfort. "How are you feeling?" "I’m sore," the bunny said. "I… I’m tired." "That’s to be expected," Brother Jeremy said "It will take some time for you to heal. You must rest again." He handed the bunny a wooden cup filled with dark, strange smelling liquid. "What… what is this?" the bunny asked, taking it and drinking slowly. "Just a little soothing elixier to numb the pain, son. Drink up. The opium will steady you and bring sleep. We will speak again in the morning." This time the bunny watched himself fall asleep from far above his body.

Elliot stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door quietly behind him. His breathing was heavy and his forehead shone with streaks of perspiration which he dabbed at with a red handkerchief. Doctor Benway heard the sharp snap as Elliot removed his slick white latex gloves and deposited them in the trash. Elliot stuck the wrong end of an unlit cigarette between his lips, tried to light the filter, failed, and then dropped the lighter into the trash. He relaxed into a striped loveseat next to Doctor Benway and heaved a sigh. "Well, he ain’t talking!" he said. Doctor Benway set down the book he was reading. "Nothing?" "Hell no, I got loads of information. Just I don’t think he’ll feel like talking for a while is all…" He pinched his cigarette between his forefingers. "You got a light?" "No," said Doctor Benway without searching. There was a long silence in which Doctor Benway felt awkward and Elliot barely noticed. He tossed his unused cigarette at the garbage can. It bounced off the side and onto the carpet. "So," Doctor Benway said casually. "Do we have a course of action yet?" "Yes!" Elliot cried, springing to his feet. "It turns out we’ve had the ability to accurately track Mary Holiday all this time! It’s built right into the hat!" "Oh god…" said Doctor Benway. "So it just goes to show, Chris, that whenever you steal a big giant time-travelling hat: read the manual." "You mean we’ve been out here, for however long it’s been and we could have had this entire thing over with in a matter of minutes?" "Well, don’t blame me! I’m the captain. It’s not my job to read manuals and… you know… do stuff." Doctor Benway charged out of the room, slamming the door behind him. "Bitch," said Elliot as he searched for another cigarette.

It felt as though many days had passed. There wasn’t very much light down here, and his conscious moments were far and few between. But he had been growing stronger. More lucid, more aware. More confident. Today he was ready. "Who are you?" he asked, referring not just to Brother Jeremy, but to the entire group of people he seemed to be the leader of. Brother Jeremy smiled as though he had been expecting this. "We are, as you, mere travelers in this land." The bunny couldn’t suppress a wry smile. "Traveler? I don’t think so. I haven’t gone anywhere in what seems like centuries." "Ah, but it is very difficult to see. This is a very tricky place. It is only through meditation that I have learned this. And instructed others," he gestured behind him at the group of people, "on how to witness it for themselves." "Meditation?" "If you have any interest in our purpose here, any sense of meaningless, you should try it. You would see. In a state of total, prolonged relaxation, you will feel what I mean. Your body will be overwhelmed with movement. You will feel the walls quaking under the tremendous pressure of space and you will know." The bunny was politely skeptical. Brother Jeremy read this on his face. "You don’t believe me, do you?" "It’s not that I don’t believe you, I just…" "What if I told you that I’ve seen the outside?" This intrigued the bunny. Nobody besides Mary and Maxine and himself knew anything about the outside. "I know where we are. What kind of craft this is. And believe me, it did shock me greatly to discover that Magilum, the boat of Millions of Years, the spectral craft that carries souls from the land of the living to the land of the dead was in fact a giant top hat hurtling through time and space faster than the speed of light. That, no matter your faith, is a bit of a spiritual roadblock, if you will." "How did you know that?" the bunny asked. "Nobody’s seen the outside. Nobody here knows that…" "I have seen it," said Brother Jeremy. "In smoke, in meditation, in the blood behind my eyes." The bunny was overwhelmed. "And you think we’re traveling somewhere?" "I do. And I know what you’re thinking, because it’s what most people think when they first learn we’re moving. That it’s random. That we’re not making any progress. But there is a pattern. I have observed it. It’s simply a diversion to throw us off. It’s obviously very important to whoever’s in control that we reflect for a little while and to not know where we’re going." "Why, though? This is all such an anti-climax. It’s terrible. You’ve lived your life as well as you possibly could. Moral, ethical and generally good. And then you died and were just sort of sitting around for the next – I don’t know how long. What kind of an afterlife is that? Don’t we deserve more? Eternal bliss? Eternal fire? Eternal nothingness? At least some sort of conclusion? I’m getting chased and beaten here and there’s no god stepping in for me, there aren’t any clearly marked signs for Heaven and Hell. We’re all just hanging around in a big stupid hat captained by some maniac. It… it just seems so pointless." "Nothing is pointless. The smallest acts can be of the greatest significance. And in these days and these times, for whatever reason, it’s often easier to disregard events the larger they come." "But what are we supposed to do? Is this just the spiritual equivalent of a bus ride with a lot of miserable obsessed people?" "Have you ever read the Egyptian Book of the Dead?" "No..." Brother Jeremy smiled, realizing his mistake. "There’s a passage I have memorized now, I’ve read it so many times, in moments of doubted faith. It’s called The Chapter Of Not Dying A Second Time. A very appropriate title. Here is what it says: "What manner of land is this unto which I have come? It hath not water, it hath not air; it is depth unfathomable, it is black as the blackest night, and men wander helplessly therein. In it a man cannot live in quietness of heart; nor may the longings of love be satisfied therein. But let the state of the Spirit-souls be given unto me instead of water and air, and the satisfying of the longings of love, and the quietness of heart be given unto me instead of cakes and ale. The god Tem hath decreed that I shall see thy face, and that I shall not suffer from the things which pain thee. May every god transmit unto thee his throne for millions of years." The bunny weighed this in his mind for a moment. "What does it mean?" "It’s about the transition we’re going through right now. Learning to give up the material life we have finished and to seek higher, more spiritual goals. Most are having severe problems with this, as your rabid pursuers are a great example." "Oh, they weren’t really after me… they just want me so they can get to Mary Holiday." A man stirred in the corner. "Mary Holiday," he said, almost to himself. "You know him?" Brother Jeremy looked at this man, a little confused, as he climbed to his feet. "Yes," said the bunny. "I know him. Though not well."
"So shut your eyes while mother sings Of wonderful sights that be, And you shall see the beautiful things As you rock in the misty sea, Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, and Nod." - Eugene Field
"Is he everything they say he is?" asked this new man. "I don’t know. What do they say he is?" "Rock star, poet, messiah, chaotician by trade." "I don’t know… I can’t really say. Maybe he is and I just don’t see it. I don’t know." "Friend," said Brother Jeremy to this new man. "Please save your questions for later. Our friend needs his rest." "I apologize, old man, but I have one more." He turned to the bunny again, with a cold, serpentine look in his eyes. For a moment the bunny thought he saw his tongue flick out and back in really quickly; tasting the tension in the air. "Can you take me to him?" "I… I don’t think he’d appreciate that. He’s very leery of people at the moment. Myself included." "I really must insist," said Brother Jeremy, standing between the man and the bunny. Without hesitation the man reached out with both hands and snapped Brother Jeremy’s neck. It was devastatingly fluid and quick. Brother Jeremy was gone before he even hit the ground. The bunny felt like crying but he couldn’t. The exhaustion was too much. He waited, quietly in shock, eyes wide and shivering while the man took a few steps closer. "Have you ever read the Epic of Gilgamesh, my friend?" The bunny was completely still. "I have a little passage memorized, I’ve read it so much. It goes something like this: "All living creatures born of the flesh shall sit at last in the boat of the West, and when it sinks, when the boat of Magilum sinks, they are gone; but we shall go forward and fix our eyes on this monster."

©Copyright 1998, Brad Turcotte