So, I know a lot of you folks enjoy stories. Here's one for you, about an older fella out hunting. Heads up for a bit of lanuage and violence, oh, and supernatural stuff

Dew is collected heavily on the grass, the leaves and saturated the bark on the trees. It was not enough to have rain last night, oh no, a morning so damp it may as well rain again is perfect. Perfect that is, if you're a frog. No frogs here, just a few feral rabbits and an odd cottontail. Pet cast offs, except for the cottontails, that have made their home decently deep into the forest. Certainly all of them quite far from the dead end road littered with trash bags, the skeletons of TVs and busted home appliances of various size they had been dropped at. These rabbits are what brought Albert out and down this road. He pulled his old blue rust bucket of a truck over off the road and slapped his notice of permission to hunt from the landowner on his dash. He heaved himself out of his truck, groaning and joints cracking. The sky was spotted with areas of the streaky grey of heavier rainfall and contrasting bright blue clearness. Albert watched a turkey vulture make a wide circle, it's dark silhouette passing in front of one of the bands of rain and pull back hard to the left as if to say “Nope. Nope to all that wet over there.”
Albert wondered if it would rain too hard where he planned to set up and snag some easy rabbit meals as he opened the tail gate and the window on the truck topper. The familiar and permanent odor of oil and various mechanical lubricants crept out of the enclosed bed quickly and Albert reached in for the old .22 long rifle that was riding in the bed in a heavily worn padded leather sleeve between a heavy black painted steel toolbox and weather worn red ice chest. He pulled out the old rifle, and the purple of the walnut popped up brilliantly as the drizzling rain wet the stock. Albert loaded fourteen rounds into the tubular magazine and for about the millionth time in his life thought about how he hated the particular magazine design on the rifle. He would never replace it though, it was the rifle he had bought to give to his grandson and the adorable little bumbling boy had been taken from the world too soon. Albert had fallen in love with the faint purple tint to the wood stock that he later found pronounced itself brilliantly when given a caring rub with linseed oil or as he noticed now, when wet by the dreary morning rain. Albert locked up the truck and shoved another handful of bullets into his pocket. He set out into the pine and oak forest, calling quietly back to his truck, “Stay here Crusher, I'll be back soon. Hopefully with dinner.”
Crusher soon disappeared from view among the trunks of the tall pines and the large fronds of the saw palmettos that crammed themselves in as tight as they could beneath and Albert picked a spot to hunker down and wait. His spot looked over a clearing in the pines with a decently large patch of white clover surrounded by the sharp saw palmettos. Albert had chosen a fallen pine to sit himself on and he picked at the bark while he waited.
The rain gushed down briefly and the saw palmettos on the far side of the clover patch rustled. Albert watched the fronds bounce much harder than they should be from just the rain and smiled. He froze and laid both his hands on his rifle that was laid across his lap. A flash of orange near the ground drew his eye and he held his breath.
The rain slacked, it was leaving as fast as it had come on as it often did here in the southeast. From gush, to steady rain, back to just a drizzle, the orange rabbit rustling around poked it's nose out. The feet followed the nose with eyes and ears on the tree tops and sky, and the rabbit stretched it's body to full length as if keeping it's toes under cover as long as possible kept it safe. It nibbled some of the wet clover and nothing happened so it took another hop-step out and scanned the area on the ground around the clover patch. Trees, fronds and human. Human was new but not a big deal, human lady had brought it here to this place. This place was scary, but better than the closet that smelled like pee. The rabbit hunkered down and set to chomping clover. Moments went by and the coast seemed clear, so moment after moment rabbits of various colors, patterns and sizes appeared including a few with large lopped ears.
Albert slowly let his breath out. Damn, Jim was right. His woods were getting overrun with these multicolored pests, tasty pests at least. He counted four that were definitely dumped but the other eight were much younger and looked like they were the product of the first round of free bunny love. Albert watched and picked out two of the adults and decided they'd be coming home with him. He raised his rifle and lined up his shot on the iron sights.
Snap! A large round hind end of a bunny landed squarely on an oak twig. Albert's attention was drawn away from his shot and the muzzle of his rifle dipped while his jaw dropped. That big round butt belonged to a large buck with a handsome head. His handsome head attached to a handsome body with a velvety pelt. This rabbit was unlike one he'd ever seen, it was striped, not quite like a tiger but damned close. He closed his mouth but his eyes wouldn't leave the big buck rabbit. Nobody would believe him, they'd say it was a fish tale. This guy had to be fifteen pounds like those giant rabbits he saw in that little segment at the end of the news. That lady said her rabbits got to be bigger than most small dogs but who would dump something so expensive in the woods? Then he thought about it: big fat rabbit, big fat feed bill. He shrugged, he could see it. Didn't understand it, but could see why someone might do it. Albert would have just eaten him in the first place, but he shrugged, not everyone thought the way he did.
Albert decided then and there, this would be no fish tale, this would be a show and tell. He picked the muzzle of his gun back up and stared down the iron sights to line up his shot on the massive striped rabbit. He closed his eyes and let all the breath out of his lungs and held it, opened his eyes, placed his finger on the trigger and—gone. “What th' hell?!” The remaining rabbits froze at Albert's gravelly voice breaking the silence, locked eyes on him and immediately turned tail and scooted like bats out of hell. Now Albert would not only be going home with a fish tale but also no meat at all.

“Now man, that ain't even a sporting chance…”
Albert froze and his back straightened up, the hair on the back of his neck flew up and his skin broke out in goosebumps. He had been out here alone. Or at least he thought he had been. Albert's grip on his rifle tightened, and he mumbled under his breath “Pleaaaase don't be a whacked out crack'ead.” Albert stood and whirled around in one swift motion. There in front of him was a large man, deep brown… striped… fur? The man was right around six feet tall, at least two hundred pounds, maybe two fifty and it looked like mostly muscle. Apparently demon were-rabbit creatures aren't into the “dadbod.” Long rabbit ears and naked as a jay bird. Albert just stared, clutching the rifle so hard his knuckles were as drained of color as his face was.
The strange demon man rabbit spoke again, “Not so tough now? Can't face someone like a man? Just like to pick off pathetic does and their grubby kits?” his tone was seething, mocking. He took a quick step toward Albert. “A fat old man like you can afford to miss a few meals!”
Albert’s eyes got as wide as dinner plates and he stumbled backwards as the thing came forward. He wasn't imagining all this. This naked rabbit man in front of him had been the huge rabbit then? He opened his mouth and tried to make words, or sounds, or anything. He tried to scream for help—nothing came out. He tried to move backwards faster so he could get enough space between him and this man creature to turn and run, the wet ground and pine needles did him no favors though. His worn boot soles slipped like the wet pine needles were a slick of oil on a cement floor. Albert landed with a great thud, twisted in a half turn his hip took the brunt of the fall and Albert felt an awful crack. Albert's voice rattled out a gasp and the gasp turned into a scream. His hip was fractured in the fall. Albert’s hands fumbled and tried to grip his gun but the gun was no longer in his hands but down by his feet where it had fallen as Albert fell. Moving his leg to kick it toward his hand wasn’t going to happen, he could barely stand to move any muscles below his chest without wanting to vomit.
Meanwhile the rabbit man stood at Albert's feet, laughing. He nudged the gun away with his foot, scooting it out of Albert's reach with one smooth motion. “Worthless old man. Maybe this'll teach you to pick on something your own size.” He paused and sneered, “Now, these stupid rabbits aren't the most ideal creatures, most of them make terrible mothers at first. I find that their want to live becomes a powerful motivation to not do something stupid like eat my kits or scatter them about the burrow to freeze to death before I've had the chance to inspect them.”

Albert wasn’t sure what he was hearing—did this thing really just start making conversation about impregnating rabbits?! This thing is out here breeding his own army of demon rabbit people! He swallowed hard, the concoction of pain from his hip and fear for his life kept threatening to send vomit hurling from his mouth.

The rabbit man moved over to Albert's side crouched down and leaned in. “Now, you worthless piece of shit—make sure I don't see your fat ass out here again.” He stood up and took a step back. He delivered a swift stomp to the fractured hip and the cracks in the bones grew but did not break through. Albert turned his head and screamed while he vomited and passed out from the pain.

Albert woke to the smell of stale air and disinfectant. Drab beige walls, and a small television mounted on the wall murmuring the familiar sound of The Price is Right. He groaned and tried to move and the lightning bolts of pain shot through him, the pain sent his heart racing and the monitors by his head started to blare. “Shitfire!”
A young lady in light blue scrubs came power walking in and went straight to silencing the alarms as swiftly as her fingers could jam the buttons. “Mr. Boudreaux, you were in an accident. Please try to stay still. The doctors stabilized the fractures in your hip and your back is pretty bruised up. They have you some pain meds in your IV and you need to rest.”
Albert settled in the bed as the young woman spoke and went about her business checking his IVs, bandages and catheter bag. His stomach knotted up and his eyes were wide. His ears went fuzzy and the sounds of the room fell away. It let him live.
“…Lucky they found you when they did. You were in bad shape! Just a while here and some time in rehab and you'll be right as rain!” The cheery woman's voice scratched through the fuzz, distorted at first before clearing up. Albert stared at her.

“What happened?” Albert's voice croaked.
The lady stopped and frowned, “You had an accident Mr. Boudreaux, you fell on the wet ground while you were out hunting and fractured your hip. Jim Merriweather expected to see you leaving in the afternoon and never did see you leave. He called, but you didn’t answer so he went to see if you were still hunting, that’s how he found you. You were just laying there…” her voice trailed off. “If you'll excuse me I'll let the doctors know you're awake now” The young lady wondered if she should have kept her mouth shut and let the doctors tell him.
Albert's face was pale, ghost white, as were his hands and his toes underneath the blanket. His stomach twisted in knots and his mouth had never been so dry. No one would believe it, not a single word. Albert closed his eyes and let all his air empty out through his nose. There was nothing to say then. He opened his eyes and blinked and he tried to let it go. The doctor came through and Albert barely heard him over the droning sound of static in his ears. Who would ever believe a story about a bare ass naked rabbit man attacking him and kicking him in the hip? Did he even really believe it? Luckily he had the strangest small scraped wounds on his hip, each about a toe length apart where the girth of Albert's leg caught nails so sharp he could never doubt his own memory. Though, not even the most nagging doubt could convince him to take a chance out in those woods after feral rabbits again.
Dew is collected heavily on the grass, the leaves and saturated the bark on the trees. It was not enough to have rain last night, oh no, a morning so damp it may as well rain again is perfect. Perfect that is, if you're a frog. No frogs here, just a few feral rabbits and an odd cottontail. Pet cast offs, except for the cottontails, that have made their home decently deep into the forest. Certainly all of them quite far from the dead end road littered with trash bags, the skeletons of TVs and busted home appliances of various size they had been dropped at. These rabbits are what brought Albert out and down this road. He pulled his old blue rust bucket of a truck over off the road and slapped his notice of permission to hunt from the landowner on his dash. He heaved himself out of his truck, groaning and joints cracking. The sky was spotted with areas of the streaky grey of heavier rainfall and contrasting bright blue clearness. Albert watched a turkey vulture make a wide circle, it's dark silhouette passing in front of one of the bands of rain and pull back hard to the left as if to say “Nope. Nope to all that wet over there.”
Albert wondered if it would rain too hard where he planned to set up and snag some easy rabbit meals as he opened the tail gate and the window on the truck topper. The familiar and permanent odor of oil and various mechanical lubricants crept out of the enclosed bed quickly and Albert reached in for the old .22 long rifle that was riding in the bed in a heavily worn padded leather sleeve between a heavy black painted steel toolbox and weather worn red ice chest. He pulled out the old rifle, and the purple of the walnut popped up brilliantly as the drizzling rain wet the stock. Albert loaded fourteen rounds into the tubular magazine and for about the millionth time in his life thought about how he hated the particular magazine design on the rifle. He would never replace it though, it was the rifle he had bought to give to his grandson and the adorable little bumbling boy had been taken from the world too soon. Albert had fallen in love with the faint purple tint to the wood stock that he later found pronounced itself brilliantly when given a caring rub with linseed oil or as he noticed now, when wet by the dreary morning rain. Albert locked up the truck and shoved another handful of bullets into his pocket. He set out into the pine and oak forest, calling quietly back to his truck, “Stay here Crusher, I'll be back soon. Hopefully with dinner.”
Crusher soon disappeared from view among the trunks of the tall pines and the large fronds of the saw palmettos that crammed themselves in as tight as they could beneath and Albert picked a spot to hunker down and wait. His spot looked over a clearing in the pines with a decently large patch of white clover surrounded by the sharp saw palmettos. Albert had chosen a fallen pine to sit himself on and he picked at the bark while he waited.
The rain gushed down briefly and the saw palmettos on the far side of the clover patch rustled. Albert watched the fronds bounce much harder than they should be from just the rain and smiled. He froze and laid both his hands on his rifle that was laid across his lap. A flash of orange near the ground drew his eye and he held his breath.
The rain slacked, it was leaving as fast as it had come on as it often did here in the southeast. From gush, to steady rain, back to just a drizzle, the orange rabbit rustling around poked it's nose out. The feet followed the nose with eyes and ears on the tree tops and sky, and the rabbit stretched it's body to full length as if keeping it's toes under cover as long as possible kept it safe. It nibbled some of the wet clover and nothing happened so it took another hop-step out and scanned the area on the ground around the clover patch. Trees, fronds and human. Human was new but not a big deal, human lady had brought it here to this place. This place was scary, but better than the closet that smelled like pee. The rabbit hunkered down and set to chomping clover. Moments went by and the coast seemed clear, so moment after moment rabbits of various colors, patterns and sizes appeared including a few with large lopped ears.
Albert slowly let his breath out. Damn, Jim was right. His woods were getting overrun with these multicolored pests, tasty pests at least. He counted four that were definitely dumped but the other eight were much younger and looked like they were the product of the first round of free bunny love. Albert watched and picked out two of the adults and decided they'd be coming home with him. He raised his rifle and lined up his shot on the iron sights.
Snap! A large round hind end of a bunny landed squarely on an oak twig. Albert's attention was drawn away from his shot and the muzzle of his rifle dipped while his jaw dropped. That big round butt belonged to a large buck with a handsome head. His handsome head attached to a handsome body with a velvety pelt. This rabbit was unlike one he'd ever seen, it was striped, not quite like a tiger but damned close. He closed his mouth but his eyes wouldn't leave the big buck rabbit. Nobody would believe him, they'd say it was a fish tale. This guy had to be fifteen pounds like those giant rabbits he saw in that little segment at the end of the news. That lady said her rabbits got to be bigger than most small dogs but who would dump something so expensive in the woods? Then he thought about it: big fat rabbit, big fat feed bill. He shrugged, he could see it. Didn't understand it, but could see why someone might do it. Albert would have just eaten him in the first place, but he shrugged, not everyone thought the way he did.
Albert decided then and there, this would be no fish tale, this would be a show and tell. He picked the muzzle of his gun back up and stared down the iron sights to line up his shot on the massive striped rabbit. He closed his eyes and let all the breath out of his lungs and held it, opened his eyes, placed his finger on the trigger and—gone. “What th' hell?!” The remaining rabbits froze at Albert's gravelly voice breaking the silence, locked eyes on him and immediately turned tail and scooted like bats out of hell. Now Albert would not only be going home with a fish tale but also no meat at all.

“Now man, that ain't even a sporting chance…”
Albert froze and his back straightened up, the hair on the back of his neck flew up and his skin broke out in goosebumps. He had been out here alone. Or at least he thought he had been. Albert's grip on his rifle tightened, and he mumbled under his breath “Pleaaaase don't be a whacked out crack'ead.” Albert stood and whirled around in one swift motion. There in front of him was a large man, deep brown… striped… fur? The man was right around six feet tall, at least two hundred pounds, maybe two fifty and it looked like mostly muscle. Apparently demon were-rabbit creatures aren't into the “dadbod.” Long rabbit ears and naked as a jay bird. Albert just stared, clutching the rifle so hard his knuckles were as drained of color as his face was.
The strange demon man rabbit spoke again, “Not so tough now? Can't face someone like a man? Just like to pick off pathetic does and their grubby kits?” his tone was seething, mocking. He took a quick step toward Albert. “A fat old man like you can afford to miss a few meals!”
Albert’s eyes got as wide as dinner plates and he stumbled backwards as the thing came forward. He wasn't imagining all this. This naked rabbit man in front of him had been the huge rabbit then? He opened his mouth and tried to make words, or sounds, or anything. He tried to scream for help—nothing came out. He tried to move backwards faster so he could get enough space between him and this man creature to turn and run, the wet ground and pine needles did him no favors though. His worn boot soles slipped like the wet pine needles were a slick of oil on a cement floor. Albert landed with a great thud, twisted in a half turn his hip took the brunt of the fall and Albert felt an awful crack. Albert's voice rattled out a gasp and the gasp turned into a scream. His hip was fractured in the fall. Albert’s hands fumbled and tried to grip his gun but the gun was no longer in his hands but down by his feet where it had fallen as Albert fell. Moving his leg to kick it toward his hand wasn’t going to happen, he could barely stand to move any muscles below his chest without wanting to vomit.
Meanwhile the rabbit man stood at Albert's feet, laughing. He nudged the gun away with his foot, scooting it out of Albert's reach with one smooth motion. “Worthless old man. Maybe this'll teach you to pick on something your own size.” He paused and sneered, “Now, these stupid rabbits aren't the most ideal creatures, most of them make terrible mothers at first. I find that their want to live becomes a powerful motivation to not do something stupid like eat my kits or scatter them about the burrow to freeze to death before I've had the chance to inspect them.”

Albert wasn’t sure what he was hearing—did this thing really just start making conversation about impregnating rabbits?! This thing is out here breeding his own army of demon rabbit people! He swallowed hard, the concoction of pain from his hip and fear for his life kept threatening to send vomit hurling from his mouth.

The rabbit man moved over to Albert's side crouched down and leaned in. “Now, you worthless piece of shit—make sure I don't see your fat ass out here again.” He stood up and took a step back. He delivered a swift stomp to the fractured hip and the cracks in the bones grew but did not break through. Albert turned his head and screamed while he vomited and passed out from the pain.

Albert woke to the smell of stale air and disinfectant. Drab beige walls, and a small television mounted on the wall murmuring the familiar sound of The Price is Right. He groaned and tried to move and the lightning bolts of pain shot through him, the pain sent his heart racing and the monitors by his head started to blare. “Shitfire!”
A young lady in light blue scrubs came power walking in and went straight to silencing the alarms as swiftly as her fingers could jam the buttons. “Mr. Boudreaux, you were in an accident. Please try to stay still. The doctors stabilized the fractures in your hip and your back is pretty bruised up. They have you some pain meds in your IV and you need to rest.”
Albert settled in the bed as the young woman spoke and went about her business checking his IVs, bandages and catheter bag. His stomach knotted up and his eyes were wide. His ears went fuzzy and the sounds of the room fell away. It let him live.
“…Lucky they found you when they did. You were in bad shape! Just a while here and some time in rehab and you'll be right as rain!” The cheery woman's voice scratched through the fuzz, distorted at first before clearing up. Albert stared at her.

“What happened?” Albert's voice croaked.
The lady stopped and frowned, “You had an accident Mr. Boudreaux, you fell on the wet ground while you were out hunting and fractured your hip. Jim Merriweather expected to see you leaving in the afternoon and never did see you leave. He called, but you didn’t answer so he went to see if you were still hunting, that’s how he found you. You were just laying there…” her voice trailed off. “If you'll excuse me I'll let the doctors know you're awake now” The young lady wondered if she should have kept her mouth shut and let the doctors tell him.
Albert's face was pale, ghost white, as were his hands and his toes underneath the blanket. His stomach twisted in knots and his mouth had never been so dry. No one would believe it, not a single word. Albert closed his eyes and let all his air empty out through his nose. There was nothing to say then. He opened his eyes and blinked and he tried to let it go. The doctor came through and Albert barely heard him over the droning sound of static in his ears. Who would ever believe a story about a bare ass naked rabbit man attacking him and kicking him in the hip? Did he even really believe it? Luckily he had the strangest small scraped wounds on his hip, each about a toe length apart where the girth of Albert's leg caught nails so sharp he could never doubt his own memory. Though, not even the most nagging doubt could convince him to take a chance out in those woods after feral rabbits again.