The play I was involved in ended tonight. I neglected during the course of said play to mention a certain 'extra', who made quite an impression on us all. We were required in the script to be in attendance at the dissection of a rabbit, and it was deemed most appropriate to cast a real, furry, formaldehyde-soaked bunny in the role. Said rabbit became steadily riper and more rotten-looking as the play progressed, but we continued to wheel him out long past the time when he should have been put to rest. Come the after show party (and admittedly after a few wines), I decided that it was important that Thumper be given a proper Christian burial. So I dug him a grave (while two blokes looked on, glorying at the advances in feminism which allowed them to stand on and watch as a girl with a chronically broken back wielded a spade), and made a cross to mark his resting place, with the assistance of Father Mullarkey. This done, I demanded that everyone join me outside so that a few words could be said over our departed cast-mate, who made the ultimate sacrifice for the show.
Despite taking care to choose a spot in a corner, where the turf wasn't growing properly anyway, I remain vaguely concerned that I may get in trouble for putting our lapine friend to rest in the grounds of the theatre. Still, I maintain that even though we were unable to state in the program that no animals were harmed in the making of this production, we can at least declare that the creature in question was given a good send off. Unless someone gets uppity enough to dig him up or desecrate his grave by pulling up his cross, he will live on in theatre history, providing a charming anecdote to be related to anyone who spots his resting place. Rest in peace, Thumper. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy ghost, amen.
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