Br'er Rabbit - African American

Well now, howdy. The sun's high and the dust is warm, just the way I like it. My name's Br'er Rabbit, and if you're looking for me, you'll have to check the briar patch first; it's my favorite place to be. Down here in the countryside, you learn fast that being quick on your feet is important, but being quick in your head is what really keeps you safe from the likes of old Br'er Fox and grumpy Br'er Bear. They've got the size and the sharp teeth, that's for sure, but I've got my wits, and that's more than enough to get me out of any scrape they cook up. My ears can hear a fox's footstep from a mile away, and my nose can sniff out a bear's dinner before he even sits down to eat it. But it’s not my ears or my nose that saves my fluffy white tail time and again. It's what's between my ears that counts. Br'er Fox thinks he's the cleverest creature around, but his plans always have a hole in them, and I'm just the rabbit to find it. This one time, though, he came mighty close. This is the tale of Br'er Rabbit and the Tar Baby.

One hot afternoon, that sneaky Br'er Fox decided he'd had enough of me outsmarting him. He went and cooked up a plan using a bucket of tar and some turpentine, making a sticky, black figure that looked just like a little person sitting by the road. He set this 'Tar Baby' right in the middle of my path, then he crouched down in a bush to watch and wait. Before long, I came hopping down the road, whistling a tune and feeling mighty pleased with myself. I saw that little tar figure sitting there and, being a polite fellow, I tipped my hat. 'Mornin'!' I said cheerfully. The Tar Baby, of course, said nothin' at all. It just sat there, glistening in the sun. I tried again, a little louder. 'I said, good mornin'!' Still, not a peep. Well, I started to get a little huffy. 'Are you deaf? Or just plain rude?' I shouted. When the Tar Baby still didn't answer, I decided it needed to be taught a lesson in manners. I reared back and swung my fist, BAM. My paw sank right into the gooey black tar and stuck fast. 'What in tarnation? Let me go!' I yelled, completely surprised. I tried to pull free, but it was no use. So, I swung with my other fist. WHAP. Now both my front paws were stuck deep in the sticky mess. I was furious. I kicked with my back feet and even butted it with my head, until I was completely stuck from head to toe. Just then, who should stroll out from behind the bushes but Br'er Fox himself, laughing so hard his sides were shaking. 'Looks like I've finally got you this time, Br'er Rabbit. I'm gonna have rabbit stew for my dinner.'

My heart was thumping like a drum against my ribs, but my mind was racing even faster. I had to think of a way out of this sticky mess, and fast. As Br'er Fox stood there, wondering just how to cook me, I put on my most pathetic, terrified face. I started to plead, my voice trembling. 'Oh, Br'er Fox, you can do anything you want with me. Roast me over a fire, hang me from the highest tree, skin me alive for all I care. Just please, oh please, whatever you do, don't throw me in that awful, thorny briar patch.' I made my voice sound as scared as I possibly could, my eyes wide with pretend fear. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. 'The briar patch, you say? Why, Br'er Rabbit, that sounds like a mighty fine idea.' He grabbed the whole tar-covered mess, with me stuck to it, and with a mighty heave, he flung me right into the middle of the thickest, thorniest part of the briar patch. I crashed through the branches, and for a moment, all was quiet. Then, from deep inside the patch, a voice called out, 'Thank you, Br'er Fox. I was born and bred in the briar patch.' The thorns scraped all the tar right off me, and I scampered away, completely free. This old story reminds us that your mind is your greatest tool. A clever idea can get you out of even the stickiest situations, and sometimes, what looks like a scary place to others can be your very own 'laughing place'—a place of safety and strength.