What do you think, Mole?

In the 1720’s some lady called Mary Toft gave birth to a litter of rabbits and all of Merry Old lost their shit. It turned into this big scandal cause obviously she was just tucking dead bunnies up there. It was around the time that midwives were falling out of favour and doctors took over and it turned into this thing where the people were all, “See?! A dude can’t deliver babies! They’re dumb!” Recently I’ve been thinking: what if Mary Toft HAD delivered a litter of rabbits. Like what if that was a thing. That’s what I want your opinion on.

Moley, what do you think about a world where you could potentially be a human lady with rabbit siblings? What would that look like? For you, specifically.

Yours,
Ratty

Dearest Ratty,

After mulling this over, I have decided that this question – this situation: in which a human lady could have rabbit siblings –  is not as far-fetched as I had originally thought. I already refer to my cat as my lover, my son, my husband, the Sid to my Nancy…you get the picture: he is my family member. Ergo, imagining myself with rabbit siblings is no real stretch at all.

Now that I have stepped into this universe of having rabbit siblings, I have to decide where I would fit in to all of this. Would I be the oldest? The middle (oh god, no, nobody wants that) or would I be the youngest sibling? I’ll take the youngest for $200 please, Alex.

And…here is what I envision: my rabbit siblings would be protective of me because not only am I the youngest, I am also the aberration. I am the special child with no fur or delightfully floppy ears. And because I was born with two legs and not four, my nickname would be:”two legs”. My older rabbit siblings would be protective of me and follow me everywhere. There would be no need for blankets because my bunny brothers and sisters would nestle me and keep me warm with their fur.

And what was originally thought to be my greatest weakness would become my greatest strength. I would learn to stand on my two legs and protect my brothers and sisters and bring them new food to try. “Carrots again?” Flossy would whine (Flossy always whines about everything) and Buster (always standing up for me) would say, “Nuh uh, Two legs brought us shawarma!”

I’m a little too in love with this fantasy, can you tell? I’m already thinking of a title for my book:

Two legs good

or

Rabbit run (and get us food)

or

Flunking the rabbit test

or

The amphetamine rabbit: my trip to sobriety

okay, I’ll stop now

Yours,

Mole

 

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