BUNNY RABBIT RAPIST

When I was about 13 years old my parents bought a white bunny rabbit.  In the garage, a cage had been put together that was about 6” wide x 6” long x 4” high and constructed of just 2x4’s and chicken wire.  In the cage was hay for bedding, the feeding bowl, a water suckle bottle and . . . that god damn rapist of a bunny.  Its pink eyes pulsating with anxious erotic anticipation.  Its brilliant white fur prickling as the muscle and skin beneath it shuttered at the thought of the sexual assault it was about to commit.  Its victim?  Its victim was me.  I was raped repeatedly as a child by my sadistic albino bunny.   His name was LUCIUS, which was NOT a name given by me, but rather by my parents, and which I can only assume he was named after the Roman Republic dictator Lucius Cornelius Sulla.  Lucius, however, told me, on repeated occasions, in bunny speak, that I was to address him only by the name LUSCIOUS after, as he put it, his “lusciously fat bunny cock.”  Now, as absurd as the name Luscious is for a bunny to name itself, I have to admit the bunny WAS fairly well endowed, but that’s beside the point.  The fact is that Luscious was a RAPIST! 

                My parents never paid attention to the bunny after they had purchased it.  They must have assumed I would enjoy having a bunny in the house as it added to the spectrum of trapped animals in our domestic zoo such as our cats, gerbils, fish, dogs, etc.  Eventually, being the kind-hearted soul that I am, I became concerned that my parent’s inattentiveness towards the bunny would lead to it starving and dying.  I decided to be the caretaker of yet another pet project; no pun intended.  So every day I fed it and refilled the water, which was easily done from outside the cage.  The problem came when I had to perform the weekly hay bedding change.  This involved entering the cage.  

                When I entered the cage to change the bedding is when the bunny went into action.  I had to bag up the old hay in order to replace it.  This required staying in there for about five minutes.  The bunny was instantly drawn towards my hairy exposed legs.  My calves represented the pulsating and glisteningly wet vagina of a horny female bunny just aching for a thick serving of bunny red rocket to get shoved in it.  Luscious assumed the “hugging hump” position on my calf and started rubbing one out, literally, with his “lusciously fat bunny cock.”  In the beginning I was repulsed by this and worked quickly, in a panic, and constantly kept moving to prevent the violation.  The only problem with that was that it resulted in a half assed job and I would need to go in there more frequently.  So, like any good serially raped victim I resolved to just let it happen and go with it.  After awhile I would enter and just let Luscious go at my leg with fervor and bust his bunny load all over my ankles.  I even began to look forward to it after awhile.  I got a sick sort of pleasure out of seeing him dry thrusting and quivering at just the look of me when I came into the garage.  He loved me, he really loved me, like no other animal I’ve ever known.  Soon I craved the attention and intensity of the Luscious’ sexual desire.  His pent up bunny balls coughing up a full thimble’s worth of Easter jizz was what made the end of my week complete.  Sadly, Luscious died of natural causes or blue balls from a two week vacation we took.   I would be lying if I didn’t say that I missed that little rapist after he was gone. 

BLACK PANTHER PROBLEM

I was talking to my Brother-in-Law, Huey Newton III, yesterday.  He is having problems with his wife (my sister).  He said to me “Rusty, man, I need yo’ help wit dis bitch rite he’re.”  Well, hold on a second…let’s rewind a bit and get some perspective.  You see, Musty, my older sister, and Huey met at a New Black Panther Party rally in Oakland, California in September of 1995.  Huey is let’s say…not very tolerant of the fact that I’m white.  I keep trying to tell him that the name Shrew is, from what my mom told me, a Ugandan name, straight out of Africa, and that my family carries a rare albino genetic code that makes us all just LOOK Caucasian; but he doesn’t want to hear it.  So be it.  He insists that whenever I talk to him I speak to him in Ebonics, not because that is the only language he understands, he actually has a PhD. in linguistics; he just thinks Ebonics was a ridiculous segregationist technique created by the white man and that since I am a ridiculous white man that I should be forced to speak it.  That’s fine with me; when in Rome right?  So, therefore, I just adjust my vernacular when I’m around him, just as you would switch to Français when in Paris.  Musty is, of course, fluent in Ebonics, and is much more versed in the enunciation and inflection of the Ebonic vernacular than I am.  I’m working on it though.  Now that you have some background on Huey, let’s get back to his dilemma:

[ME] “So wuss yo beef wit Musty, cuz?”

[HUEY] “Bruh, lemme tell u bout dis heffa! I go tuh fuk dis bitch lass night, right? She gon tell me “My pussy hurts from da lass time we had sex”, I say, WHU!? Fuck dat shit!

[ME] “For real dog? Damn, wuz she sore or some shit from yo black mamba?”

[HUEY]  ”Nah, Homey, I get ta talkin’ to dis bitch and she tell me, after like 30 minutes or some shit, that it ain’t da pussy that hurts, it’s that she ain’t in da mood.”

[ME] “WHU! Bitch betta recognize!”

[HUEY]  “Dog, I wuz mad as hell, and I said, whut chu NEED tah do, is wash dat stank as pussy! Dat shit smell  like a ferret’s dick, girl! Dats problee why yo punk ass daddy named yo ass Musty!”

[ME] “Oh shit son! Den whut?”

[HUEY]  “Bruh, dis bitch dun pulled a gat out on mah ass!  She said “You evah say some shit like dat again, and I’ll blow yo muh fuckin’ dick, right duh fuck off!”  Yo! I wuz like, Oh SHIT dis skeezy is for real!

[ME] “Dat shit’s legit homey!  So, whutchu gon du now?”

[HUEY]  “I’m gon apologize to mah boo.  She don’t need shit like dat comin’ from her man.  I bought some flowers and candy and shit, cause bitches love flowers and candy and shit, you know what I’m sayin’ Dog?”

[ME] “True dat.”

[HUEY]  “A’ight bruh, I appreciate you lettin’ me holla at chu.  Peace out.”

[ME] “A’ight homey.”

Now that wasn’t so bad was it?  Nothing but a simple little misunderstanding between a married couple.  It happens to us all.  The point is that we learn to understand and listen to what our partner is trying to say and respect THEIR point of view as well.   Peace out, Homey.