Fiction: Down on Luck

George set his newspaper down and went to answer the knock at the front door. There sat a white rabbit.

“Begging your pardon, sir. My name is Conor, and I’m looking for any sort of odd jobs you might have so I can feed my family.”

“I don’t have anything that needs done around here. Sorry.” He prepared to close the door, but his wife’s voice stopped him.

“Who’s at the door, George?”

“A rabbit. Wanting work.”

Shirley’s head appeared in the doorway. “Ooh! What a beautiful rabbit.”

“Thank you, m’am.”

“And look at those big feet. I’ve always wanted a rabbit’s foot. For good luck.

Conor looked down at his front feet. “Have you now?”

“Oh, yes. Everyone knows a rabbit’s foot brings good luck.”

Conor pondered that briefly. “What would you be willing to give me for one of my feet?”

“Oh?” She looked at George tentatively. “Perhaps $10?”

“Shirley, you can get those in stores for half that or less.”

“I’m sure you can, sir,” Conor said, “but this would be a fresh rabbit’s foot, and you’d have met the rabbit. That would make the luck stronger.”

“Oh, yes,” Shirley said. “That makes perfect sense.”

“Well, I do know of a place that could make it into a keychain,” George said.

The rabbit nodded. “Yes, sir. I know the place you mean. Many of my folk do.”

Shirley looked off the porch. Down the block she could see a black rabbit and a herd of mixed-color rabbits of varying degrees of youth.

“Oh, what a beautiful black rabbit!”

Conor’s heart skipped six beats. “That’s my wife, Cairenn, with our kits.”

“I’d love to have a black rabbit’s foot,” Shirley gushed.

Conor sat quietly for a moment before slowly looking over his shoulder. Cairenn could see the dread in his eyes even at that distance. She spoke quietly to one of the older kits, then hopped to her husband’s side.

“They don’t have work, but they would like to have a lucky rabbit’s foot. The missus, here, is keen about one of yours.”

“And,” George said, “I suppose I should have one, too. One of yours, young man, would suit me. A matched set, that way.”

Cairenn didn’t blink. “How much are we getting?”

“Ten dollars each,” George said firmly.

Caireann looked back at her hungry kits. “Very well.”

“Oh, splendid!” said Shirley. “Can you be back here with the keychains tomorrow?”

Conor nodded. “Yes, m’am. I trust you’ll understand, sir, if we’d like to have cash.”

“Of course. We’ll see you tomorrow.” And he finally closed the door.

“This will be wonderful, George! Such luck we’re going to have.” Shirley paused. “But why do you suppose they agreed to sell their feet?”

“You saw that passel of little ones they have. Though why poor rabbits have so many children I’ll never know. Nor why they just don’t go out and get decent jobs.”

“What sort of jobs do you suppose rabbits can get?”

“Well, I don’t know. Not really the point, anyway.”

“No, it isn’t. Oh, I’m so looking forward to our rabbit’s feet! I just know we’re going to be showered with good luck!”

George chuckled. “We already are. I’d have given them $15 each if they’d asked. Rabbits just don’t know how to haggle.”

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