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The Toybox

people for the conservation of limited amounts of indignation


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rabbits, pellets, fic
children of dune - leto 1
seperis
There was a really terrifying moment while talking to svmadelyn, sharing bunny stories, where it suddenly hit me--this is the entirety of my current conversational skills! I am one of those people. I have, in fact, become the crazy rabbit lady. Woman. Fangirl. Oh God, I am a rabbit fangirl.

Let's just list this out.

1.) Physically incapable of leaving a pet store without a new rabbit treat and/or toy.
2.) Angsting over vegetable combinations longer than it takes the rabbits to eat them.
3.) Obsessive house rabbit website reading.
4.) Sudden, inexplicable desire to build a small rabbit mansion out of Home Depot items. Like, say, wood. And nails. And hinges.

For those who don't get the absolute terror of this--many have read of me and dissecting the TV, the butterknife and the VCR, and the way I managed to install a DVD writer into Brian. Do any of you really, really think seeming me with a hammer can end any other way than with an ER visit and a cast?

Right.

The biggest issue is the food. Pellets! Evil! Pellets! Good! Lettuce! Evil! Lettuce! Good! Clover! Poison! Clover! Delicious! Never feed your rabbit bananas! Only buy hay from stables! YOU ARE KILLING YOUR FURRY FRIEND YOU ANTI-RABBIT WHORE.

Okay, they didn't say that, but by God, they implied. So I took them off pellets, then read at the official houserabbit website that they should have unlimited supplies and panicked, then there was alfalfa angst, and romaine-lettuce salads only, and frankly, the rabbits eat better than I do. I'm also picking up a wide collection of bunny claw scars, one of which is showing a case of mild infection. First vet appointment for Reggie the Netherlands Dwarf (I want to say Neanderthal *so much*), Bryante the Holland Lop, and Sloppy the Holland Lop (renamed by Sister Who Technically Owns But I Care For) are at teh end of the month. I am not looking forward to this in an epic way, but I do have a rabbit magazine (first joke gets you stepped on, I swear) and have highlighted relevant chapters to discuss.

And the less said about Bryante's hind leg nail clipping the better. Seriously. I'm hyperventilating over my rabbit's pain and terror while my mother stares at me blankly while trying to trance him and asking me if I need medical intervention. The paper bag did nicely.

And so half my flist doesn't defriend me into disgust--you advertised as fannish and now you are Twenty-Four Seven Rabbit!--a snippet from Teacher's Pet 8, still in production on my hard drive. And by production, I mean, it's sitting there, mocking me. This was originally written for svmadelyn, and--yeah, I'm not even going to try to commentary on this one. I'll just--be over here.

I can honestly state, however, that when I started? This is not where I ever expected to be.

snippet for teacher's pet 9Collapse )


Meep. Rodney's just so -- dad-like here. And John is -- the "Why don't I remember?" just killed me. As did Rodney praying to whoever looks over kids and idiots. So dad-like. And I want to know what grown-up John is going to be like, his relationship with Rodney after this.

*gah*

*whimper*

*flail*

ps ... I love your crazy-rabbit-lady posts, it makes me feel less alone in my crazy-cat-lady-ness. My mom enjoys them too, when I read them out to her.

Oh, my heart. I think I say that every time I comment on this series, but I think that pretty much says it all. My heart.