I'm living in some odd set up for a stand-up comedian. We have a groundhog; we've dubbed him "Harmony Hal" in honor of Pennsylvania's much more famous rodent, Punxsutawny Phil. Hal needs to find another home, and being a full-service kind of homestead, we're prepared to drive him there. All we need is to catch him. We've researched the appropriate bait for a groundhog trap: apples, carrots & broccoli. We've set the trap thrice, and twice caught rabbits. We expect a third bunny any minute now. And based on the amount of bunny tracks around the place, we'll continue to relocate the rabbit population for a while before the groundhog even bothers to check out our trap.
We nicknamed the first rabbit "Vincent van Go" because he had only one ear. I made a bad joke to Stobex (normally a connoisseur of bad jokes nhimself) about Vincent being a one-earred jack rabbit (you know, like a one-eyed jack in a pack of cards? Hey, I admitted it was bad!). I was going to call the second bunny Secundus, but Stobex's idea was to call him Deuce, as in "Deuce is wild." Actually, like Vincent, Secundus was quite placid in the trap/cage until he was let out and then he bounded up a slope into the woods. I'm planning on calling rabbit No. 3 "Treo" after Stobex's e-mail/calendar device. I can call No. 4 "Cassatt" because we're going this weekend to hear the Cassatt String Quartet play various pieces, including one by my great-aunt, Rebecca Clarke. I can call No. 5 Chanel . . . and on, and on, and on.
But what's the punch line? All I can think of is a cartoon payoff: a final panel showing Hal, winding up the mechanical bunny rabbits one by one and sending them out of his burrow toward the trap, chuckling maniacally with an army of rabbit dolls behind him. So, how does my joke end? I'm dying to know.