We crouch, hidden in the bushes. Not some 15 feet away are a herd of wild bunnies. They make nervous noises to one another, contemplating where the enemies are, but the enemies have already made a plan.

“Now you, will run to the south and around,” I whisper, my back turned toward the herd of wild bunnies. I point my knife at a man who is with me. He nods in agreement.

“And you, will come from the north and east,” I say, thinking for a minute. I show a woman the path which she will take.

“I will come from the north-west,” I say, tapping my knife on the map to show where I will be coming from. “Everyone got it? Be swift, be alert, and move with ease. Watch for my signal, and aim for the largest one.”

They all murmur their agreement and move off through the bushes to their locations. I crouch and dodge through the trees, trying to keep all the bunnies in view. The largest and juiciest bunny of all sits in the middle of the pack, the most alert one of all. He jerks his head in all directions, sniffing the air for any changes.

“You’re mine,” I whisper. I hold up my hand and point toward the bunnies. Suddenly three people become one as we all move in unison towards the bunnies; my eyes are trained on the largest in the middle.

“So, where are you from?” The sixth apartment complex resident manager asks, leading us back to our car from one of the apartments we just finished viewing.

“Normal, Illinois. So this makes you the sixth apartment complex we’ve seen today.” I say, trying to inject some excitement into my voice. Sure, the first couple of apartments looked promising and it really was exciting, but now it is 3 in the afternoon, and after looking at all of those different apartments they all seem to blend together after awhile. Kinda like bunnies.

“As long as your income is three times the renting amount, then we can rent to you,” The seventh and final apartment complex owner says, handing me more paperwork.

“The apartment looks great, you guys do a really great job at keeping up with this place,” I say, more enthusiastic than the apartment we saw filled with pot-smoking hippies.

“Why thank you,” The manager says. He’s an elderly gentleman running the place with his wife. They are both really nice and know exactly what they want. Unfortunately I’m a bit young for their tastes in people who rent their place, but I’m tired of waking up at 4 in the morning to my neighbors blasting music.

He is the alpha-male of the pack. The largest bunny.

March 21, 2008 - Four in the afternoon:

“Soooo someone’s birthday is coming up…” She says, striking a mock-thinking pose.

“Who’s birthday?”

“I dunno…I thought you could tell me!”

“Brittany Spears?” I suggest.

“Oh, maybe!” She says, and then adds after a few minutes of silence, “So what do you want for your birthday?”

“I want…” I say, thinking for a few seconds, “one of Matt Damon, please!”

“You will only get him if he climbs through your window in the middle of the night.”

March 22, 2008 - Two in the morning:

“Happy Birthday Jillian!” Mike says, holding up his glass and cheering to me. One of the rules for “Circle of Death” (he drew the Jack card and made up this rule) was that every time you had to take a drink you had to say ‘happy birthday Jillian’ and clink your glass with mine.

“Get your ass over here so I can cheer you!” Mike adds from the Circle of Death table across the room.

“Wait…I’m looking still,” I say, staring out the glass sliding door.

“For what?” Mike says, coming up behind me. He looks out the glass door as if there is cake and cookies on the porch.

“Matt Damon.” I say simply. I turn around to see Mike staring at me.

“Did you take LSD in-between the four beers?”

“Naw, I don’t think so.” I say, shrugging and walking back over to the kitchen table. “Anyways, I don’t think he’s coming…damn.”

PS. I just finished up the comment section, so feel free to use it as you wish. Do not exceed labeled limit on packaging; use at your own risk.