Bunny Bites

Bunny Bites-revised

For the third time this morning, I yelled up the stairs to my son, "Josh, get your ass out of bed. You are not sleeping the summer away," The love laced profanity was spoken to my sweet, but lazy twelve-year-old son. It was the same conversation I’ve had with the atmosphere every day, knowing it would be ignored. Exasperated, visions of pouring ice water over his head danced through my mind with it quickly becoming my next plan of action. Luckily for Josh, I had not found the need to resort to that tactic. It was being held in reserve.

"What you want? I'm up."

"If you want breakfast, I need to see you at the table."

"Aw mom, just five more minutes, please."

"Get out of bed now!" I began using my mean mom voice. It didn't always work, but it made me feel better.

Josh moved slowly, each movement prolonged. In typical Josh fashion, he ambled down the hall taking zombie-like steps. Ten minutes later, he arrived in the kitchen.

"Breakfast?" the boy grumbled sleepily.
"Cereal or oatmeal. It's a make-it-yourself and eat-it-yourself day. I have stuff to do."

"Could you....?"

My perfected mom glare managed to stop him in mid-sentence,

"I have made a list of chores for you I need to be done today. Cut the grass. Take out the trash. Clean the rabbit cages. Feed and water said rabbits," I said, being very precise, having learned long ago the needed method for dealing with kids.

"But mom, I was going to get together with Pete."

"Plenty of time later to socialize. "

“Can I do that stuff later?"

"No, the poor rabbits are in desperate need. I think that 4-H project of yours has headed south. You never feed and water them. I don't have the time to do your job. If you want to keep those animals, you have to do the work. I'm leaving now, so get this list done before I get home. Got it?" I wriggled my nose like a bunny for emphasis as I grabbed my keys to leave.

My efforts were met with a shrug of the shoulders and typical teenage eye roll. With the words he spewed, he reverted to his toddler days of monosyllable vocabulary,” Okay, okay!"

I left the house assuming that my demands would be met, but apparently, it was wishful thinking. Josh had made a small effort to cut the grass, with a zigzag cut pattern in the greenery left as evidence. I had pulled into the driveway, noting the trash bag had miraculously made it as far as the mailbox. Just two feet away sat the big, green container the trash bag could call home if placed properly. When I entered the house, the gaming equipment was spread out in the living room. Cords and controllers decorated my couch and ottoman. A crushed and munched bag of chips and a hollowed out jar of Nacho cheese sat idly on the floor. The Boy Scout training of leaving no trace was wasted on my son.

A tremor of rage ran through me as I went in search of my wayward son. Finding tooth paste painted mirrors and a sink full of soap suds caused me to swallow the profanity fighting desperately to escape my lips. I went to his bedroom, thinking he had chosen to return to the comfort of his bed.

When I entered the room, I found three gray bunnies sitting on the bed. Mentally, I had to give the boy credit for seeing to their needs. But there was a difference, a haunting and malicious stare emanating from behind the rabbit’s glassy orbs, I couldn’t help but notice. They weren't the cute pets of memory. The nibbling, nestling, and lovable pets of heart-melting cuteness had become carnivores. Their eyes were glazed in the frenzy of a feast. Fangs, painted in red, protruded from their mouths. The crunching of cartilage echoed loudly. The pesky rabbits lapped at the gray matter spilling from their newly discovered fountain of youth. Three pink bunny noses wiggled frantically in search of further food. My son's remains were sprawled across the bed. The central part of his face was missing. The upper caverns of his scalp were splayed open, like a science experiment gone terribly wrong. In a maniacal and precise fashion, the bunnies glanced in my direction, but returned to the gnawing of the fresh flesh and blood in front of them. They would dine on the meaty carcass of my wayward son until sated.

"Dammit Josh, I told you to feed those adorable, starving rabbits!"

Word count 774


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Bunny Bites-original

"Josh, get your ass out of bed. You are not sleeping the summer away," I said to my loveable but lazy twelve-year-old son. It was the same conversation I had with the atmosphere every day. Exasperated, ice water over the head was my next plan of action. Luckily, I had not found the need to resort to that tactic. It was being held in reserve.

"What you want? I'm up."

"If you want breakfast, I need to see you at the table."

"Aw mom, just five more minutes, please."

"Get out of bed now!" I began using my mean mom voice. It didn't always work, but it made me feel better.

Josh moved slowly, with each movement prolonged. In typical Josh fashion, he ambled down the hall with zombie-like steps. Ten minutes later, he arrived in the kitchen.

"Breakfast?"

"Cereal or oatmeal. It's a make-it-yourself and eat-it-yourself day. I have stuff to do."

"Could you....?"

I stopped him in mid-sentence with my perfected mom glare.

"I have made a list of chores for you that I need to be done today. Let me read them to you. Cut the grass. Take out the trash. Clean the rabbit cages. Feed and water said rabbits," I said being very precise, having learned long ago the needed method for dealing with kids.

"But mom, I was going to get together with Pete."

"Plenty of time later to socialize. What are your plans?"

"Hanging out, here or there. Can I do that stuff later?"

"No, the poor rabbits are in desperate need. I think that 4-H project of yours has headed south. You never feed or water them. I don't have the time to do your job. If you want to keep those animals, you have to do the work. I'm leaving now, so get this list done before I get home. Got it?"

"Okay, okay!"

I left the house assuming that my demands would be met, but apparently, it was wishful thinking. Josh had made a small effort to cut the grass, with a zigzag cut pattern left as evidence. When I returned home the gaming equipment was spread out in the living room. Angry, I went in search of my wayward son. My anger grew as I looked for him. I went to his bedroom, thinking he had chosen to return to the comfort of his bed.

When I entered the room, I found three gray bunnies sitting on the bed. They weren't the cute pets of memory. Their eyes were glazed in the frenzy of a feast. Fangs, painted in red, protruded from their mouths. Three noses wiggled frantically in search of further food. My son's remains were sprawled across the bed with the central part of his face missing. The bunnies ignored me and returned to the gnawing of flesh and blood. They would dine until sated.

"Dammit, I told you to feed those adorable, starving rabbits!" were the only words this mother could muster.


Word count 496