"It's enough to make a grown man toss his cookies right on the dash, Emma. Here's two 40-yard-line tickets to the Super Bowl and I never got a chance to use 'em. Cost me two hunnert bucks each; maybe I should frame them and hang 'em on the wall."

Carl rolled the window down and blasted a stream of tobacco juice out of the window, splattering a passing station wagon across two-thirds of the windshield and depositing yet another layer of stains on the side of The Whale.

Emma sighed and paused momentarily in her crocheting. "Carl, you haven't told me just where we're heading, and I do wish you'd be more careful when you spit out that window. That poor station wagon nearly went off the road when you covered his windshield."

"I'm not sure exactly where yet. Mostly, I just want to get as far away from snow and cold weather as I can without ending up in Peru or some other communist country. Texas was pretty warm when we passed through it; maybe we ought to head down there and find some dirt roads that ain't been explored before. Yeah, that's it ... Texas! The Lode Star State."

"You mean Lone Star, dear?"

"That's what I said. Anyway, why don't you try to get a good station on the radio ... and none of that modern crap like the Beatles or the Monkees. See if you can get some polkas or Benny Goodman."

"Emma fiddled with the elaborate radio. "You know Carl, I never could figure this radio out. It's got more controls on it than an airplane and it cost us more than a small car."

"Emma, that's a serious set-up. Nothin' but the best goes in The Whale. It's got 200 amps and twice as many volts, an eternal equalizer, AM-FM-PM, police, hospital and mortician bands, woofers, honkers and tweeters, Dolby and Molby, instant replay cassettes, a spastic filter, whiffledonks, multi-tuning forks, eight speed signal hunters and a half dozen red lights that flash on and off a lot. Can't get much better than that!"

Emma finally found a control that switched stations and started scanning:

"Hold it light there, Emma! We got us a real station. Now quit clicking those needles so loud, so's I can hear what's happening!"

" ... rabbits the size of Buicks are roaming the hills and hunters are heading home with full gunny sacks of the long-eared critters. And the center of the action appears to be Bonzo, Texas, home of the annual rabbit hunting tournament. So, if you're in the area, stop in and sign up. Who knows? You could be the winner of the $25,000 first place prize for the biggest rabbit. Jot this number down and ... "

The Whale screeched to a halt on the shoulder and Carl scribbled down the number, then whipped out a road map, followed some lines with a thick fore-finger and yelped, "Buckle up, Emma! We gotta make 1500 miles in the next two days!"

Texas. Wide, flat, lonely highways, miles with no houses, sparse traffic, bullet-riddled road signs, dead armadillos splattered on the scorching hot pavement and gnarly looking cattle nibbling on vegetation that would gag a house fly.

The Whale rumbled down the arrow straight empty road, substantially over the speed limit, the 454 cubic inch engine barely working up a sweat in the process.

Emma took over the wheel for a while, and Carl cleaned his guns in the back seat while Emma shuddered. Every once in a while, Carl would peer out the window at an imaginary rabbit, cock his finger and make bang-bang sounds with an evil grin on his face. "Gotcha, Bugs Bunny! Kapowie, right between the ears. Rabbit burgers coming up on the grill!"

They arrived in Bonzo, Texas, after a grueling drive. The town consisted of a Texaco gas station, one small diner, a hardware store and perhaps 200 houses loosely scattered around the main street. Carl stopped in at the station and tanked up, noting a poster for the rabbit hunting tournament posted next to a stack of dusty Yoohoo soda cases. Sign up was at seven in the morning at the barber shop and the tournament started sharply at nine.

That night, Carl hit the sheets early, while Emma watched five different wrestling shows until midnight on the satellite TV. Yes, The Whale was well equipped, indeed.

Dawn crept in, Texas-style, slowly at first, then blinking in full tilt in a matter of minutes. A huge number of hunters were still signing up, many of them in out-of-state trucks. Carl paid the entry fee, bought the required licenses and got a sheet of rules and information.

According to the rules, the hunters could use their four-wheel-drive vehicles to go anywhere, as long as they did not shoot from the vehicles, and stayed within the county boundaries. Shooting started at nine and ended at dark. All rabbits had to be in for weighing before eight o-clock and the heaviest rabbit got the $25,000 top prize. There were also other prizes to be announced later on for runners-up.

At 8:55, Carl locked the front hubs and made sure the shotguns were lashed down firmly in carriers. At nine on the button, he turned the key and fired up the mighty 454 and dropped it into 4H. All four tires churned and spun on the hard-baked Texas clay and The Whale headed off to the hunt.

Emma frowned. "Carl, are you really going to shoot one of those cute little bunnies?"

"You can bet on it, honey pot. There's gonna be fur a'flyin'!"

"Carl, if you shoot those innocent creatures. The Good Lord will punish you. It's not right!"

Carl just grinned and bounded over the bumpy fire road. The road got rougher, but the double shocks at each wheel soaked up the bumps nicely. When Carl got out of sight of all the other vehicles, he slowed down and concentrated on scanning the landscape. A half hour later, Carl saw a tell-tale set of ears perk up and a rabbit bounded away, darting from right to left. Carl leapt out of The Whale and started firing away like Rambo. Puffs of dirt hit to the right, then the left and behind the rabbit, before it disappeared from sight.

Emma squealed, "Did you kill it? Did you hurt the poor thing?"

Carl grunted. "Nope, the miserable rodent got away. Musta been a tail wind throwing off my aim. I'll get the next one, though."

Emma just set her lips tightly and knitted furiously.

During the next eight hours, Carl ran through 15 boxes of ammo and scared the living hell out of dozens of rabbits, but not one of them suffered so much as even a scratch.

As darkness neared, Carl sighed and gave up. "I just don't understand it. Must be the gun. Never shoulda bought a BlastMaster Mark II. Sights are way off."

The Whale pitched and rolled gently as they headed back to the registration area. Carl turned on 14 of his 22 roof lights and a blazing wave of luminescence lit up the landscape.

And there in the arc of the lights, stood the biggest, ugliest rabbit Carl had ever seen, transfixed, with eyes as wide as poker chips. As Carl was reaching for his gun, there was a loud "thunk" sound from under The Whale.

Carl scrambled out and moments later, poked his face in the cab, holding on to a pair of very long ears attached to a huge rabbit.

Emma let out a small gacking sound: "Killer! How could you?"

"C'mon, Emma. The dumb thing jumped right into the winch and got knocked senseless. I never even got a shot off. No matter. Looks like I got me a $25,000 rabbit here!"

When Carl pulled up to the registration area and carried the rabbit over, a hush fell over the gathered hunters. The rabbit was a monster! Carl beamed from ear to ear, like a certified idiot.

The judge put it on the scales. "Twenty one pounds even. Biggest one so far. Funny thing, though. I don't see any bullet holes."

Carl didn't even bat an eye. "Oh, that's the way I hunt 'em. I shoot for a rock next to the rabbit and the explosion of the rock stuns 'em dead. It's cleaner that way. 'Course, you got to have a good gun to do that. I use a BlastMaster II, one of the finest pieces money can buy."

The judge nodded. "Well then. If there are no further entries, it looks like we got ourselves a winner here?

"Hold on!" A voice came from the back of the crowd. "I just got in and got me a big one here." The hunter hoisted a giant rabbit up to the judge, who promptly weighed it, and in a deep voice, intoned: "Twenty-one pounds, six and a half ounces. It's now eight o'clock and I declare this here rabbit to be the winner. Sir, step forward and claim your $25,000 first prize money."

The hunter, a barrel-chested man with two wads of tobacco in his mouth, climbed up to the podium and accepted his check, amid heavy applause.

The judge held up a hand. "And now, in second place, with a twenty-one round rabbit, this gentleman here. Sir, come up and get your prize."

Carl wheezed and clambered up to the podium. "What do I get for second?"

The judge opened up the envelope and smiled. "You get a great prize, sir. Two expense-paid weeks vacation at Santa's Village in Alaska, including room and board. Congratulations!"

Emma didn't say a word, which at this point in time, was probably a very wise move.