The Day of the Rabbit

 

Chocolate Muscovy Duck and Netherland Dwarf-cross rabbit, Peter
Chocolate Muscovy Duck and Netherland Dwarf-cross rabbit, Peter

Yes, moi is planning a stay at home all day and not mingle with the relatives be alone festival. Mostly because my ability to deal with people borders on cringing away in horror that other people actually exist outside my fevered brainlands. As said relatives, in a small town off the wilds of Boise [Idaho, for those who think I live in France or Canada, tee hee] have invited their relatives, who fill me with actual snarls. I have no wish to hear about how the lib’rals are blah blah blah and the paid protestors and…yeah. All of that swirling conspiracy crap spews from the various mouths and yours truly just wishes for that damn meteor of death already to hit. Boom. Gone. No more uncomfortable dinners with earnest little tape recorders.

 

I am a liberal in a very red part of my state/s. As this region here might as well be called Idaho-lite or Idahgon. But I won’t go into this, nope nope nope.

It’s the Day of the Rabbit. Where a magical rabbit hands out chocolate eggs to all the good children of the land and then there’s ham and springtime.

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I know what Easter is, thanks. Brought up a Lutheran. Did the whole nine yards. Jesus and I have agreed to see other people but we still keep in touch, to misquote from True Blood. Lafayette.

I’ve been rewatching that, which is why those particular words occurred to me in this context. Not so much watching it as it’s playing in the background as I write frothy somewhat happy morality tales about talking animals.

I still grind my teeth over humorless Bill, who should have been staked in the very first episode, and shrill Sookie, the helpless little houseplant. [They made her do stupid things so Beell could save her all the time, it got old freaking fast.] I still enjoy Eric and Pam, wishing the show had cut most of the other characters and centered the show around those two Fangtasia fantastics. I won’t do a True Blood run down, don’t worry. It’s Easter! It oddly seems appropriate on the Christian Day of Blood [yeah, I went there and if you’re offended, that means you’ll come back hoping to be offended again. Yay!]

Okay! Working on my Beastface Bay tales. I have about five done. The giant squids of Jesus, Teddy’s back story, Burt and Judy and their crime spree, Sean and Bean’s exodus from Froggy Pond, and oh, how Teddy got and lost a friend. Oh. That tale went into a dark but satisfying place. I didn’t wish to write that fate of that little fish, and I know full well I can unwrite it. I’ll read over my words and see if it ‘rings true’ or not.

Oh, there are no tales about any rabbits in my Wind in the Willows knockoff.

Well, there’s a baker rabbit in Driftwood who might be selling her seven daughters to the locals for, um, favors, but that’s just a rumor there in a small town. You know how small towns are!

 

Oh my, this started with my staying home by myself on Easter and ended with a weird reference to a mother rabbit pimping out her rabbit daughters. With a hasty sneer toward True Blood, which I hatewatch, apparently. I should probably edit this heavily and add some smiley face pictures. Well, back to writing! I’m about to dive into Captain Isaiah’s shipwreck while hauling slave horses back to Beastface Bay during the dark days when slavery was a thing. Have a nice day, Jesus.

PS– Night of the Lepus was on last night! I laughed, I cried, I laughed so hard  I cried. I just want to thank whomever over at TCM for deciding to run that truly so bad it’s good little gem right after the rather sweet Ernest Borgnine movie, the Rabbit Trap. [I was not out having sparkling conversations with sparkling poets, sorry. I was schlumped at home with the remote control and some tap water.]

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