Plots Rabbits

Chewing up!

One morning, after two or three hours sleep, he called me.

--My toaster cable! It has been chewed! ... He said, angry, chocked, confused. Does rats eat that?... He add, sceptic.

How on earth was I supposed to know this? But I went on the net and search. He didn't have time for this. He couldn't take the risk to get distracted by what was on the web. He had to progress in his writing. 

--I have this strange feeling that I won't get the chance to finish this one; and I must. It is my master piece... He kept telling me. 

I didn't liked how this whole thing was shaping him into what he was becoming.

--I felt it, I think I'm going to die, Sam. I have to hurry up! There are no time left. I have to hurry up!

I was devastated the first time he said that. What was I supposed to do of that information? 

--How are you going to die... I said.

Why did I say that? Don't ask, please, don't. 

It wasn't the question I should have asked. Who cares how it would happen... For it was the how he knew, this would happen, that truly mattered. But I never got the chance to ask him again.

Then the things got worst. T'was on a Thursday afternoon;  it was hot and sunny. I was taking some good time in my back yard, enjoying a beer and a moment alone, when the phone rang. It was Roger. 

--Come. 

That was it. He hang up.

I went down the road, to his place. He was waiting outside. Looking tired, looking exhausted even. 

--Rabbits. 

I stared at him, confused. 

--What rabbits?... I said.

--There are rabbits in my house. And they're eating it away. 

He handed me a bunch of paper sheets, chewed. His hands were shaking, his face was pale, his eyes blurry.

--Look! My master piece!... He paused. Angry and sad. 

I stared at him, confused and silent. How could a rabbit do something like this? But he kept going.

--They've found it! I knew they were looking for it... I knew it! Told ye, I won't have time to finish... But I must! This is my master piece. 

They? I didn't get it quick; that he wasn't talking about one rabbit, but hundreds! He assured me that there where hundreds of rabbits in his house, eating away his work. 

--I can't get in. I can't work. And when I can; they chew it!

So I went in, worried. No one wants to find oneself facing hundreds of white, fluffy, hungry rabbits; trust me, no one. I opened the front door, got in, my hands shaking, my mouth dry, my heart beating faster than any athlete's after a run. I wasn't mental prepared to find a house eaten by rabbits; I wasn't ready... And I found... NOTHING. 

The place was clean, as usual. Neat and tidy. Nothing, no scratchings, no chewed cables, no rabbits poops... Nothing. I took a tour of the place, went from top to bottom. But I promesse, I found nothing; nothing excepte my brother, standing outside, gazing at the sun as if he hadn't seen it for eons.

--It's all clear, bro.... I said, sorry for him. 

He didn't trusted me. He glanced at me and went back in, almost smashing the door on my noose.