The little bunny rabbits came hoppity hoppity hoppity across the meadow. Mummy rabbit saw me with my gun and said, We're little bunny rabbits, don't you think we're pretty?
Yeah, I said, very pretty. But I'm out to make rabbit pie. My kids want Sunday lunch.
The baby bunnies trembled. Mummy rabbit stood up bravely and said, Take me. Spare my little babies. They know nothing of life.
The baby bunnies sobbed.
Yeah yeah yeah, I said, but you're old and gristly. I can't expect my kiddy-winks to eat tough meat.
And I blasted the baby bunnies to hell with one shot. The Mummy rabbit ran round in circles screaming, You scumbag, you fascist, I'll get you for that. I laughed as I gathered up the limp warm bodies, and whistled as I walked home. In the kitchen the kids were waiting hungrily.
What have we got for lunch, Mama?
Rabbit pie, potatoes and cornbread.
Now go outside while I get dinner.
I skinned the rabbits and put them in a dish, bones and all. As I was rolling the pastry I heard a shotgun blast. I rushed outside to see my little kiddies lying in puddles of blood. Nearby stood Mummy rabbit with my gun.
Now we're even, she said, dropped the gun, and ran off.
I'll kill you, I railed, but she'd gone, just a fluffy white tail bobbing across a field.
I wander the countryside, still searching for that rabbit, and wondering why, on that fateful day, I hadn't had just gone to the supermarket and bought burgers instead.
8 March 2013
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