Category: Writing and Poetry
On my IPOD: 2nd Mvmt to Rachmaninoff's 2nd piano concerto
I am going to be unoriginal. I posted a reply to a fellow my-spacer's blog and thought it was a little absurd...well, someone, other than the poster of the blog, replied with a reply letter. And of course, being me, I had to egg the situation on a little more.
So, if you want to read the original blog then follow this link...RAW blog
If you just want to read my part and the posts from Monday Night Skins then keep reading. Mind you, this was all totally off the cuff. I am hoping that Bunny Rabbit will continue his letters to his mother and father...And of course, his mother and father will continue to answer. As a matter of fact, I believe he has eighty something siblings that all know how to use the internet as well...
Feel free to comment and continue the story, as I think we should hear opinions from the whole family. Let's keep this going.
REPLY TO ORIGINAL POST:
This is your mother...I found you blogging on this site and had to say that I am deeply disappointed in the way that you refer to yourself as just a rabbit. I was a movie star back when you were conceived. You were special, after all, you stood out among all nine hundred, eighty seven and two-third rabbits I can call my own, you were my favorite. Now look at you. Living in squalor without a gnome, female or furry happy place to go to when you are stressed you have resorted to living a life of the poet, a writer, a weirdo who blogs on this pixelized world of addiction.
Everyone thinks that they are a god-damn poet don't they. And the women are loose? You should be sacrificed at our next meeting in Beatrix's Garden of Gnomes..really, get a grip and find the old rabbit I once knew inside yourself.
They want a story? I'll give them a story, yes, the one you told me not to ever, never, tell. No, not the one about you and the Easter one making out in the back yard, the year you thought you had discovered homosexuality, the one regarding the carrots and Mr. Hoopers grocery store in China Town... There you were making fun of the ducks while they fried in Sesame Oil and before you knew it, you had a carrot stuffed in your mouth and your right back paw was about to be cut off for some bratty little bastard child's good luck charm. Who did you call then? Yep..me...
Come home. Your father needs someone to pluck his gray whiskers out of his head. His eyesight is terrible and all I can seem to do lately is to give you more siblings.
Your poor down-trodden mother,
Mrs. Jessica Rabbit
Posted by Cicily on Thursday, August 02, 2007 at 12:56 AM
[Reply to this]
Monday Night Skin
You're not my mother! My real mother died when she choked on my little brother! So who are you to tell me I can't be a poet or a writer? Just because you bailed me out of one frying pan doesn't give you any right to judge me. Besides big shot movie star, who do you think wrote all those lines for your close ups? That's right, it was a writer. Only difference is you can't sleep with me in order to get your next big chance. And lets face it Jessica, your "booby traps" aren't what they used to be. So don't try to ruin my big chance like you ruin my childhood. Yes, I'm talking about how you always had to walk me to the bus stop in that ridiculous low cut ruby dress of yours. It was 6:45 in the morning for Pete's sake! Who does that! And leave the Easter you-know-who out of this. That whole matter was settled out of court and you know damn well I was in a strange place at the time. But if you feel like dragging out family secrets, I've got a couple of my own. The Animaniacs and a bottle of tequila ring a bell? I know who got the worm that night. You can tell dad I love him, but don't think for a second I'm hopping on home to pluck the whiskers of Disney's token rabbit.
Your fed up step-son,
Posted by Monday Night Skin on Friday, August 03, 2007 at 12:12 AM
[Reply to this]
This is your father, Roger...First off, you don't talk to your mother like that. Second, I was the one who had to pay the lawyer bills for you and Easter, so I don't want to hear anymore shit about it. The Animaniacs were a mistake, I believe it was them who inevitably caused the downfall of my marriage and I should have never let your mother invite them over for clams or tequila, but she is quite the socialite and she promised that they would behave.
I have been fed up for a while with you and your mother not getting along and I am sorry to say, but I am leaving this family. I have decided to join a band of traveling water-skiing squirrels. I am going to be their opening act as well as their road manager. Someone has to monitor them, and they sure as hell are going to be easier to keep up with than you, all eight something siblings of yours and your slut of a mom.
Don't feel sorry for her, or me or anyone else. Just keep this to letter between you and me, but I know for a fact your mother is sleeping with some freak human who calls himself Santa and only wears red. This just ain't right. After all of those cartoons I did and the money I bring in I would think she would still be happy with me.
And as far as the gray hairs, don't worry about that either. I met some Korean Lop-eared bunny who does something called a "brazil wax". She was hot, kinda like your mom in the old days before her boobs started sagging, but exotic. I would let you meet her, but you are gay, just admit it.
I must go now, this wax-brazil-thing is this afternoon and you know how difficult it is to cross the road. Just think of what happened to that poor Ms. Cluck the chicken from next door. I don't believe I will ever get over the smattered and plundered feathers all over the road that afternoon.
Please don't try to contact me. Your mother will give you extra money on the holidays on my behalf.
Your wayward father,
Posted by Cicily on Friday, August 03, 2007 at 1:12 PM
Yours in Bunnies, Breaching Blog Boundaries, and Branching into the World of Small Rodents,