Drippy the Peg Legged Rainbow, A Story for Demented Children

Drippy the Peg Legged Rainbow

A Story for Demented Children

John H. Carroll

Published by John H. Carroll at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 John H. Carroll

Cover image Copyright 2011 John H. Carroll

Cover photography by Tracy Carroll

This story is dedicated to all the straight people who still love rainbows.

This story is not for normal children.  If you have any intention of raising a well-adjusted child, this is not the right tale for you.  This story is for kids who think everyone on the Disney Channel is an over-actor that should be stabbed repeatedly with sporks.

In all seriousness:  This is not a good story for most kids, especially not young ones.  It could even give them nightmares.  I mean it when I call it ‘a story for demented children’.  “Winnie the Pooh” and “Amelia Bedelia” are excellent reads for sane children.

*** 

Rainbows have existed throughout the universe since shortly after its inception.  Born from light and moisture, they have expanded along with galaxies and other cosmic goo.  They only die from the destruction of worlds, absence of moisture, or the long loss of light.  Many are ancient, being nearly as old as the universe itself.  Others are young, only born moments ago.  All are beautiful, although many beings in the universe think them to be evil bearers of bad tidings and illness.

This is the story of one rainbow, neither ancient nor young . . .

***

“Hey, you, are you using this tree?” Drippy asked two cute little bunnies nuzzling by a stately tree.  One was black with purple streaks while the other had chestnut brown fur.  They weren’t hopping around energetically like all the other bunnies in a nearby clearing.  The tree was a tall maple with vibrant green leaves stretching out toward the sky.

The bunnies looked up at Drippy in surprise.  “I didn’t know rainbows could talk,” the black one remarked in a gloomy voice.  “I hate rainbows.”

“Of course rainbows can talk, although I don’t know why I waste my time talking to bunnies.  Here I am trying to be polite when I’m having a miserable day and you respond by saying you hate me,” Drippy grumbled.  He hopped a little to the left to get just the right angle of the sun through the light springtime drizzle falling on the rich green forest below.

“I’m always miserable,” the black bunny stated miserably.  “I don’t like rainbows because you always seem so cheerful and bright.  When you come around, it means the clouds are going to go away and the sun is going to shine.  Plus; you don’t have my favorite color.”

“What’s your favorite color?” Drippy asked out of mild curiosity.  He prided himself on having nearly every color in the spectrum even if most eyes couldn’t see all of them.

“Black,” the bunny answered cheerlessly.

“Don’t mind Emo,” the chestnut-colored bunny said in dulcet tones.  “If it gets sunny, he might be expected to hippity-hop and he hates that sort of thing.  I’m Haylo.  What’s your name?” she asked pleasantly.

“I’m Drippy.  I can sympathize with not wanting to hop.  I’m getting tired of it myself,” he responded while hopping a little more to the left to adjust for the angle of the sun again.

“What happened to your right leg?” Haylo asked with concern, using a paw to point at the place where Drippy’s missing leg used to be.

“It was stolen by a leprechaun who took it from me to mark where he buried a pot of gold.  I was distracted while the little green jerk snuck up,” Drippy growled angrily.  “Then I couldn’t hop fast enough to catch up, so he got away, laughing gleefully the whole time.”