|The Orange Forest Rabbit couldn't sleep. His bright brown
eyes searched the night sky through the tiny gap between the curtains. He
saw nothing but darkness, and a few dots of stars. He went to the window
and opened the curtains wide. His freshly brushed orange fur shined softly
in the pale light from the distant crescent moon. Suddenly a blue fireball
dashed over the treetops.
"Jennifer! Wake up! You've got to see this!"
"What is it?" asked Jennifer hopping towards
the window. She was slightly smaller than the Orange Forest Rabbit. In the
moonlight her coffee brown fur appeared to be a rich black, and the orange
spot on the back of her neck sparkled.
"It doesnít look like anything I know,"
replied the Orange Forest Rabbit.
Robes Pierre lifted his head from the Orange Forest
Rabbitís furry orange robe where he had been nestling. His perky black
ears grazed the ceiling. "Itís time to enlarge the house
again!" he bragged. "Iíve been growing. I get to dig!"
Then he crouched down and pushed his boxy brown nose out
their bedroom window. "It doesnít smell like anything I know."
He straightened his perky black ears. "And it doesnít sound like
anything I know." He wagged his tail excitedly.
Robes Pierre was their pet pitbull puppy. When he first
dashed into their cozy rabbit hole at the top of Sassafras Hil, he had
been the same size they were. But ever since heíd been growing, and as
he grew, he made their home bigger and bigger.
The blue fireball zoomed closer and closer. "How
beautiful!" said Jennifer.. "I hope it doesn't hit our house! Or
hit the carrot patch! We're in the middle of harvest time!"
The blue fireball broke into thousands of small blue
spots glowing in the night sky, all falling to Earth. "Oh, Gregory!
They're landing near your warehouse," said Jennifer.
"So they are," said the Orange Rabbit. "I
wonder if people would buy them."
Jennifer laughed. "Must you sell everything? You
are such a silly rabbit sometimes!"
The Orange Forest Rabbit hugged her. "I love
selling things and so do you. After you design the marketing campaign for
our latest carrot cake, we can decide if we want to sell those blue
The blue sparks subsided to a dim blue glow in the
distance. "I think the fire is over now," yawned Jennifer
"Letís go to bed."
The next morning the Orange Forest Rabbitís first
words were, "I canít wait to see those blue fireballs." Then
he put on his neatly pressed orange suit, and strapped on his orange
motorbike helmet. "Iím off to investigate," he said.
His wife, said, "Not without eating some fresh warm
carrot cake, first! How will I be able to convince our customers to eat if
you go out of the house with an empty tummy?"
The Orange Forest Rabbit bumped noses with his wife.
"You just like to watch me eat."
"And I like to help you sell things." Jennifer
Rabbit bumped her husbandís nose.
The Orange Forest Rabbit had been thinking so much about
those blue fireballs, that he hadnít noticed the sweet smell of carrots,
honey and cinnamon that filled the kitchen. Jennifer Rabbit heated up a
caseful of their fresh new carrot cakes and set them on the breakfast
table. She would need to eat dozens of them before she could design a new
advertising campaign to make Orange Forest Rabbit Carrot Cake the most
popular cake in the world.
The Orange Forest Rabbit ate a whole carrot cake and
grabbed another one as he headed for the door. He strapped his orange
motorcycle helmet onto his head and then lifted the faceplate to put the
delicious, mouth-watering spicy carrot cake in his mouth. Mrs. Rabbit knew
the Orange Forest Rabbit from the days when he was an ordinary brown
rabbit. That was before he became a carrot farmer and refused to eat
anything he hadnít grown himself. He ate so many carrots that he turned
"Mmm, Jennifer," said the Orange Forest
Rabbit. He kissed her before lowering his face plate again. Then he licked
his lips to get the last of the carrot cake crumbs off his whiskers.
"Eat as many of these cakes as you like. The more you eat, the
sweeter your advertising words will be."
The Orange Forest Rabbit hugged his wife. Then he went
out the kitchen door of his rabbit holeand kick-started his orange racing
"Come on, Robes Pierre," he called. His
faithful dog jumped into the orange trailer cart on the back of his
motorbike, and grabbed the safety bar. It was early in the morning, and
the farmers were just getting started with the irrigation. The motorcycle
roared across the misty carrot fields. Mr. Rabbit showed up unexpectedly
sometimes to check on his workers and to pick some fresh carrots.
"Stop Mr. Rabbit," said Robes Pierre. "I
"You are always smelling things nobody else can
smell," said the Orange Forest Rabbit. "Is this something good
or something bad?"
"I donít know," said Robes Pierre. "But
I smell that fireball that we saw last night." He jumped out of the
cart and started sniffing around the field. Soon he found a round black
stone, and brought it to the Orange Forest Rabbit. He wagged his tail
Mr. Rabbit sniffed the stone. He didnít smell anything
unusual, but it was warm. He trusted Robes Pierreís nose because dogs
have a better sense of smell than rabbits. But he liked to have things
explained to him, so he could understand them for himself. "The
fireball we saw last night was blue. This is a black stone."
While the Orange Forest Rabbit had been examining the
small round black stone, Robes Pierre collected a pile of them.
"These werenít here yesterday," said Robes
Pierre. "And the only new thing that happened in the night was that
The Orange Forest Rabbit thumped his back left foot,
which he did when he was trying to figure things out. He rolled the stone
around on the ground, examining it from all sides. The black stone felt
very hard and smooth. He picked it up and turned back and forth between
his paws. In the sunlight, it had a metallic sheen. Then he said,
"This stone had a blue fire. Wood has an orange fire. But after the
fire, whatís left is black." He paused. "And nobody is going
to want to buy small black stones. But, since these are not ordinary
stones, we could put up a sign telling folks that a meteor landed in this
field. Tourists might pay to see that."
"First we need to harvest these carrots," said
Robes Pierre. "If you want, you can call them Meteor Field Carrots,
and see if people will pay extra."
"Thatís a wonderful idea," said the Orange
Forest Rabbit. "Iíll ask Jennifer to design a special label for
them right away."
"Good," said Robes Pierre. Then both Robes
Pierre and the Orange Forest Rabbit looked around the field Ė the
harvesting crew was hard at work. Men and women in orange overalls and
construction hats drove tilling and harvesting machines that picked and
washed and bagged the beautiful orange carrots. Robes Pierre tilted his
nose into the air.
"I smell more people than I seeÖ.," said
"I donít see how you can count with your
nose," shouted the Orange Forest Rabbit, as he kickstarted his
motorbike engine. "Weíre late for opening the warehouse. Letís
get back on the road."
"There is somebody here that I canít see,"
insisted Robes Pierre. "And heís eating carrots."
"Who would hide in a carrot patch?" asked the
Orange Forest Rabbit.
"Thieves," said Robes Pierre. "Carrot
"Nonsense, thieves steal jewels, not carrots. Itís
"You really should listen to me," said Robes
Pierre. "Iím right. Iím right. Iím always right!"
"We are not stopping," said the Orange Forest
Rabbit. He pulled back the throttle and leaned forward to reduce his wind
resistance. Then he headed towards town, like a furry orange ball zooming
across the fields, down the roads and up a hill towards his office and
warehouse. His perfectly ironed orange suit flapped behind him, and Robes
Pierre held on tightly to his safety bar.
"You will listen to me one day," growled Robes
Pierre. His tail curled under him as he sulked in the orange trailer cart.
He refused to wear the faceplate on his helmet because it covered his nose
and prevented him from smelling.
A line of orange trucks with the Orange Forest Rabbitís
OFR logo were already waiting for them to open the warehouse. As soon as
he parked his motorcycle, Robes Pierre ran off to the airport to oversee
the packing of OFRís daily shipments. And the Orange Forest Rabbit loped
over to his warehouse.
The Orange Forest Rabbit grows carrots in the Great
Plains. He grows them on the sides of mountains. He grows them on the
seashore . He even grows them in the cold wastelands of Greenland. And
everywhere he grows them, they make customers happy. Nobody can buy just
The carrots from the Great Plains are crunchy and sweet.
The ones from the seashore are juicy and tart. The ones from the
wastelands are bigger, softer and taste a bit like apples. Whatever
the flavor, the customers keep coming back for more.
A taste tester, wearing an official OFR apron with the
OFR logo on it was waiting in the Orange Forest Rabbitís office, holding
a freshly picked, and freshly bitten, carrot from the meteor field. He
stood, scratched his tummy, and then said, "I wish to report that
these carrots are maximally delicious. In fact, I would say they are your
The Orange Forest Rabbit climbed up onto the platform in
the middle of his office and sat at his specially made small desk. He
always liked look humans in the eye when he worked with them, and since he
was only 15 inches tall, he had platforms built all over his warehouse to
place him at their eye-level. As soon as he was seated, he called up his
carrot report file on his orange computer and logged in the words
"best yet." Then he added, "a meteor landed last
With the taste testerís okay, the Orange Forest Rabbit
was ready to send carrots from the meteor field to the market, just like
he did with all his other maximally delicious carrots, packed in orange
crates with his picture and logo on every box. His wife Jennifer had
designed both the picture and logo, and they won marketing awards for
attracting the most customers.
Robes Pierre bounded into the Orange Forest Rabbitís
Office. "None of the warehouse staff is on duty. And somebody has
taken most of the carrots without paying for them!" He wagged his