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Rated: 18+ · Monologue · Dark · #1460019
this is a stream of consciousness piece. be warned.


THE LIFE AND TIMES OF SPOOKY D’BUNNY


born to doctor mekyll and mister pride, spooky bunny was set free immediately from the egg into a field of soft furpie for to raise a good and healthy man. he came from wash d.c. to dallas tx at the tender age of m.k. and struggled on the elementary circuit for 7 yrs unable to show any aptitude with the ladies both teacher nor student. having found this perturbing, dr. m and mister p sent spooky to zee christian school but alas as the ladies were super premium at the richy school the money was not so super premium for the struggling doctor m and her endeavors as a reverse penis-plantologist. so the school of christian d'lovely booted spooky out on his ass in his first smoking in the boys room year of magic the gathering and he was forced to live out his high school existence in a chicken cage with scant funny comic strips for to poo waiting for any upper-class geek to munch off his head at a mock rock concert surely confusing him for a bat or mice or something more suitable for the mouth guillotine of rural frog-eyed delirium. spooky survived and indeed graduated magna cum dumbass number twenty one in his class of twenty two. but that's'k, the kids in the special classes made easy C's for to look good and deserve their school more money for the football team to learn alphabet and no more illiterate tailbacks ok? yes was saying.. and spooky love football cuz bang good hurt bad good? then need second job. being super sexy not enough anymore. no women other than a string of sisters on the neighboring farm with too much heads in utters to give much but a little machete love to the neck of run over tabby. tender hearts yet too involved with pleasing father. understandably and us hungry. them workers. could share some feed. jes little? no. k. well so took a job with paper man. not "boy". seldom do they employ boys for this job, k.? little respect please. spooky worked for 15 years at the place where fascist biased power hungry mavens of industrial glut would cart out our nightly i mean 365 fuck christmas nightly newsprint arranged as to make us laugh on said comic strips for later defecation in cages of stinkpit freshman. this was for us to fold thousands of heart wrenching stories of desert storm and serial killer topiary to place in little green grape grocery store plastic bags the ones grandmother refused to fool with and hands to you in the produce section to figure out while she nags the stock'em in jellyboy for fresher plums and less designer fruits wasting her time and patients but none of us could read cept garfield kinda made you want to see what the cat was up to. i liked cats cuz they were better than vaseline on cold nights you know with blank tapes at the ready and da middleaged dj finally plays the lion sleeps tonight or sloop john b. by the beach boys? thats good shit. in spooky house cannot take the beachboys without a little pet sounds. usually dogs barking for more Alpo. more of that stuff, how can they eat it? but jes like me and my delicious hunger for green label jack daniels they did love green label alpo. o and it was me that took yer alpo can coupon out of yer sunday paper. yes me. spooky b. but ala beer bread and gallon of whiskey Christmas fruitcake in Christian school recipe books sold door to door for 7 dollars sending the band to Tennessee where the real trouble makers need a good flute solo for'n to give them a flutterin for Jesus, I digress. this theatrics and meloncollie book of lyrics turned me onto the mad hipster scene at the local j.c. for some serious coin you could take classes for to make you serious coin in life. cuz coins where its at baby. coin could get spooky back in that richy K-12 but no. that would take a time machine and spooky had seen all the movies concerning that. even the one with Malcolm McDowell playing h.g. wells. wat funny scene but the one where H.G. is at a mc.donalds and he cannot figure out what the French have to do with pommes frites. spooky could not get his closet to take him back to 1985 where all the premium ladies were waiting so he signed up for three classes that semester one of them being English 101. lotsa jokes in the funnies: parenting 101, zit popping 101. you know because you educated. this 101 signifies "beginning". not many years later the powers that were changed the number to something in the ballpark of 1450 to confuse the typical college student into thinking he was come a long way when fact bein three years and he still pecking around taking intro to watching movies this and intro to art looking at that. well mister spooky had never read a book. mostly jes magazines with pictures of naked women prostelyzing their skinny bones to his firm faith that food was an important factor of an innermost happiness. well I'd have none of that and ate a chicken biscuit at miss april's honest yet bitter disapproval. and so English seemed a daunting puppy to conquer. the first day of class my knees shook a little in fright. the professor came in and I could tell right away he was a bohemian. I always knew this word from mister pride and his dislike for the bob Dylan and the art garfunkel on the radio. I liked this guy tho. I wrote a paper for him and got an A. it was this thing here you are reading. ha. that not true. it was a paper on the house I grew up in. and well that was not a hard paper to write cuz I was still growing up in it. and he marked my paper with the word "Read" on it and I didn't know what that meant so I spent about five minutes reading to myself the thing I wrote feeling no less than a tad silly when the old man says now its time for those with special marks on their papers to read the essays aloud as examples of fine writing. wat! well I shrunk back in my desk chair. never having read anything aloud before but the horoscope to aunt billy every sunday morning after church. she in her filthy deathbed turned into premium piece of coin in the following weekends moving sale. billy moving to the next place you know I mean heaven seemed okay to sell her bed and all her spoons from the various states and districts of Columbias she'd been to in the last some eyed years. well came time for me to read and you see spooky is wearing a dumb rabbit suit. underneath's a mansuit just as dumb. yes? and the suit underneath the suit is very well transparent and the face is like those scream movie masks you buy at Halloween with the pump you pump and blood squirts all up in the mask itself. well that's spooky bunnys manface exactly. beet red sitting in the far left back corner closest to the door all the ladies craning their necks to see this hillbillyboy read his descriptive paper on the house that stood on the corner of richy and dilapidation. of course soon as "and that's what its like living in sheer terror of grandfather moley and his "pick up that ten foot pile of sand and move it ten feet then move the same pile of sand back to where ya found it" mentality. the end" the first girl on my left commented on my bloodred face and I was ready for shooting when the crowd broke out in uproarious applause and the chime sounded for to scurry off to Am Hist 101. I was all everything is illuminated and daily found my way up to professor bohemian's office to show him various shitty verse I'd written in the dark at my parents house or over at grandmas with seven cats on my belly nodding in disapproval as I ran all the rhymes out loud to them causing such a laugh shook them to the floor when I triumphantly penciled in the word "shat" and called it a night of inspired poetic discovery. well there was about ten years of this. thank god for taking spooky's mom to diabetes and thank god for taking spooky's dad to heart failure. this kinda made spooky hate old goddy for a while. made him kinda lose the will to rhyme. thus the will to live. but it sorted itself out cuz spooky learned that writing was a fair release for all this bummed up hatred squirreling around in his faux cotton furry chest. the professor had bought the house he grew up in once grandma died of stroke and grandpa moley couldn't afford the taxes anymore and moved out to live with the sisters on that farm near the sachse tavern where a blow job'll cost you "not a thing" as long as you've not lost that zing. in all spooky jes lives with his wife a sterling silver copy of his mom. and three kids darling little angels of which he will not share any information with you as to keep them from ever knowing about poetry or essays or anything that might make goddy take daddy away to heaven so they can write from the pain in their own lives. no. this is a lesson I have learned. keep them in the premium private school where the ladies are very nice. and send them to the j.c. all tuition free and their very own college counselor paid by me to keep them away from English class and only a light dose of the 101 or the 1450. of this and more I am losing touch. but I will not have any bohemians living in this house. no!


-Spooky D'Bunny
8-7-8

send more alpo.
© Copyright 2008 T-Bone Tootincommon (spookybunny at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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