Dig, dig, dig. That’s what I do. Dig the body as hard and as fast as I can, until it falls.

One day, when Rab­bit was tak­ing his med­ica­tions, Tig­ger bounced his car­rots to smithereens and Rab­bit had an idea. A won­der­ful, ter­ri­ble idea.

Henry and I had met at the hospital. He’d been forty years my senior, but we’d been in for precisely the same reason: kidney stones.

Jerry smoked secretly. The habit had formed some thirty years before in humid jungles, and he’d never kicked the craving nor the need to hide it.