Incident at Rockytop Hollow
Bunny Bunny Berrybottom wakes up on the eve of midnight. Fur matted with sweat by a dream of dread and death. She checks the young ones, asleep and naive. Hop, hop, hop outside she goes. The air runs crisp with Fall, leaves swirl and memories crackle. The clouds breathe crimson black, infinite possibilities boil.
Two yawns and a weary stretch to the sky before Old Russel Beattie’s mint-condition Remington Shotgun splits Bunny Bunny Berrybottom in half. The wails of children pierce the national pulse. Outrage and disgust clog the circuitry. Cameras, Congressmen and gossip leak from rusty pipes. Accountability languishes. New laws roar, pink and staunch. Order restored. Minds at ease. Old Russel Beattie eats hot soup. Circle the wagons.
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