The rabbit sadly shuffled along in the corner, his bare paws beating off the carpeted floor in an insipid tatoo that echoed off the walls. When would the humiliation end? The spot he danced in was threadbare, his long feet brushing back and forth, sometimes hitting hardwood floor after so many years of dancing. No one really ever payed attention to him, even after so many years. His agent had told him this was the chance of a lifetime, but for 21 long years now he had been pushing his feet with barely a notice by the family. It had been too long, and as he stared out at the small basement, his feet sore, his muscles aching, and his eyes dull with pain, he contemplated the .45 in his hand as he began his dance once again and lifted it to his mouth...
The rabbit's not going to shoot himself. He's only pulled that stunt-what? twelve times now?- and he's never done it before. no, he's only trying to make me feel sorry for him
( ... )
Comments 3
The trick is, you must be SMARTER than the rabbit.
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