Glen tried to think of an alternate meaning for rabbit, but shrugged it off as a warning when he failed. He should have kept thinking; a white convertible Volkswagon Rabbit came tearing across the fairway, like a giant, rabid golf cart. Only, it wasn’t a golf. It was a rabbit.
The driver fishtailed to a halt a few feet away and called out, “Hey Karl, didn’t anyone ever tell you a golf course is a dumb place for a picnic?”
“This is why I hide in the attic,” Glen thought, but he said, “Did anyone ever tell you that car is gay?” She just giggled and gave him a playful poke in the ribs.
The driver jumped out of the car without opening the door, tossing his sweater into the back seat, “Look, jerk, watch your mouth!”
“Or what,” she teased, “You’ll tell father on us?” That shut him up, but he stayed and glared at them both. Glen went back to watching the duck. He wondered if the duck had ever made a bad bargain.
Eventually, the driver spoke, “Tonight, 8 o’clock. I was sent to remind you. Don’t be late.”