II.
Animals are fascinating.
Jimmy picks up a dead rabbit off the side of the road near his house. He brings it into the shed in his backyard, stands on a wobbly stool to reach some of the gardening tools, and gets to work.
He dissects it piece by piece, studying and inspecting all the inner workings of the thirteen-hour-old deceased rabbit.
Gore covers his ungloved fingers, and inside, there are treasures like maggots and bits of tire tar and gravel. It gives the nine-year-old boy a full picture of how the creature suffered its death.
He closes his eyes and imagines it. The little fluffy bunny must have been grazing on clover growing near the road – its stomach contents tell him that much – and it was looking for more, so it went to hop, hop, hop across the street to the other side. But it didn't hear or see the car turning the bend, racing toward it, and it was too late. It leap out of the way but the brunt force of the grill knocked the rabbit clear off the road, twisting his head 'round, severing its spinal chord in its neck.
It for was the best, though, really; it enabled Jimmy the chance to have a bit of biological fun for a spell.