This is a tale, a tale of chocolate. A tale of the human misconception of the behaviour of chocolate, and most importantly, a tale of human need. Was my desire greater then Wendels? Could I overcome my urges?
This is the story of how... I spent my morning.
OR!
The Tale of Wendel, Chocolate Rabbit
Having already claimed the head of a chocolate Santa many years ago, I felt it was time to finally get my revenge...
...
upon the easter bunny.
Now, as I cruised the stores, searching for chocolate rabbits, I had to think. Did I want a dark chocolate rabbit? A white chocolate one? A spotted one? One with candy in it? One with crispies in it?
Did I want it big, small, hollow, round, 3d, 2d, or did I want to buy one of the Hollywood characters to hack apart (eg. Spiderman).
I decided to go with a 1 lb (pound) chocolate rabbit, who I named Wendel. Now, because I am not a nice person, I decided that Wendel must not have been a nice chocolate bunny. As I was discussing with my guinea pigs (who shamelessly watched the torture), Wendel must have done awful things. We found out later on, that Wendel was a chocolate bunny murderer. That is to say, that before he arrived at my house for suitable (yet tasty) punishment, he had sent many others of his siblings to their dooms.
He would tell his sisters that the little girls just wanted to paint them and add on fluffy types of decorations, to get them to go along with the children. He'd tell his brothers that the boys just wanted to use them as action figures. And worst of all, he told his grandmother, Tabitha Bunny, that she was going off with that nice little old lady to be the womans friend.
Wendel, as you can tell, was a bad bunny.
So. As Wendel arrived home with me. I asked him why he had done this.
"Oh... Inrun he said. It was all for self preservation. The peeps you see, they had been chattering about how people use them in torturous acts. Such as popping them into microwaves with toothpicks in them, to watch them joust and morph into blobules of peeps."
Well. As I thought to myself about this. I realised that I had yet to eat breakfast. Well... as I picked Wendel up and cradled him, I said quietly "What beautiful ears you have".
And that was that.
Poor Wendel...
I had really just meant to deprive him of the ability to hear (I was sure we could communicate by sign language afterall), but sadly I ended up taking away his senses of sight, taste and smell as well. With the scent of chocolate burning into my nose, and the realisation that I had just commited choclacide in my mind, I knew there was only one thing I could do...
Blame the guinea pigs.
And so my friends. I leave you now. Always remember, guinea pigs, little sisters or brothers, and pet dogs may be blamed. But only you, truly know, who bit the head off of
your chocolate rabbit.
Evisceration is a sign of respect.
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