This morning I saw a comic (which I can’t seem to find again for the life of me) that made me laugh quite a bit. I posted the text to Twitter and thought little else of it. Upon request, I began to write the tales of Fox and Rabbit. The first paragraph is not mine, the rest is.
*Spoiler alert* This may make some animal lovers a little uncomfortable.
Once upon a time there was a fox & a rabbit. Their nature meant they could never be friends. Mostly because rabbit was a twisted psychopath.
Fox and Rabbit lived together. Well, I say lived: Rabbit kept Fox tied to the radiator in the basement and only let him out to hunt for carrots. Fox wasn’t very good at hunting for carrots because he was a meat eater with a meat hunting nose. But Rabbit was a vegetarian and he was the one calling the shots. Sometimes Fox would just paint a twig orange and give it to Rabbit to eat. Rabbit was mental and couldn’t taste the difference.
Towards the end of Winter both fox and Rabbit should have been hibernating. Instead, Fox was forced to put Rabbit’s tail in a perm every day. Becoming less and less emotionally stable, Fox found he was suffering from Stockholm syndrome and fell in love with psychopath Rabbit. This would not end well.
Determined to escape, yet heartbroken that he had to do so, Fox began sharpening his claws and managed to detach the radiator from the wall in the basement when Rabbit wasn’t looking. It was pretty hard to do things when Rabbit wasn’t looking as Rabbit’s eyes pointed in two different directions at once.
One day, Fox decided that enough was enough and today would be the day he escaped from the schitzoid clutches of Rabbit. Only, Rabbit knew something was up, the voices in his head had told him, and his horoscope that morning had warned of losing assets and being hit by heavy metal objects. Rabbit quickly sold all his shares in Google and began wearing a motorcycle helmet.
Fox meanwhile had fashioned a shiv out of paperclips and twine and decided to make a break for it. because Rabbit was wearing the helmet, he had tunnel vision and could only hear the squeaky voices in his head and so Fox was able to slip right by him without having to stab him in the spleen like he had planned.
Sadly, Rabbit had misinterpreted his own stars as the loss referred to in his horoscope was in fact Fox running away, and the metal object was in fact a freight train. The motorcycle helmet only served to preserve his ears and teeth.
The funeral was held on the following Thursday. Fox was the only person there, and he wept and wept for the psycho rabbit and placed a pointy orange painted stick over Rabbit’s grave. And then Fox thought “Why the flipping flippity flip flip flip didn’t I eat that lop eared maniac?” And he walked way kicking himself. Silly Fox.
The woodland graveyard was eerily quiet until… a hand punched out of the freshly dug earth over Rabbit’s grave. He was alive! Dun dun dunnnnnnnnn…
For more of the disturbingly unhinged and amoral tales of Fox and Rabbit, wait a bit and I might write some.