The inside of the top hat was dark and cool, its satiny black lining soft and faintly smelling of clove tobacco. The rabbit stifled a yawn. The act was taking longer and longer every day. Outside, the magician was speaking, his voice booming and echoing through the large auditorium. The audience clapped continuously. The rabbit assumed that the magician must have begun his card trick because he heard another voice on stage. It was a young female voice. This segment of the act usually dragged on. Card tricks involved a great deal of interaction with the audience. The rabbit yawned widely, licked his lips and leaned back against the soft lining. Soon he was fast asleep. A few minutes later, he felt a sharp tug on his right ear. It was the magician signaling him to get ready for the finale. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, sat up straight and waited for the magician to chant his string of nonsense words. He was suddenly aware that all was silent. He couldn’t hear the magician and neither could he hear the audience. And then there was a drum roll and a velvet curtain began to lift. The rabbit found himself facing a large crowd of people. They were cheering and clapping. He bowed low, took off his hat and turned it over to show the audience that it was empty. Then with a flourish he reached inside and pulled out something…something large, bulbous even, with a sheet of oily matted hair and shaggy black eyebrows. It was a head and it looked displeased. The smell of clove tobacco emanating from it was overwhelming. The rabbit felt another sharp tug on his ear and awoke with a start. It was the same dream every day.
