If you’ve been following my blog for sometime now, you would know that I’d won Michelle Simkins’ contest with my short story entry “Beware the Bunny”. The lovely prize was Ryan the Zombunny, who arrived on my doorstep one stormy night.
This is a story of how our first three days went….
Warning: There may or may not be truth in this story, but all I know is that it’s NOT for the faint of heart.
Lightning whipped across the darkening sky, a silver lasso cackling with electricity. Black clouds had gathered unexpectedly this summer evening, and somewhere across the state, some unfortunate weatherman was getting fired for missing the signs of the impending storm. Thunder bellowed its presence and announced the onslaught of rain, which came hard and fast. Like tiny furious daggers going for the kill.
The doorbell rang. I wiped my hands on a dishtowel before pressing the start button on the dishwasher. Before I could get to the door, I heard the sound of tires screeching on the slick pavement, as if someone couldn’t get out of here fast enough.
“Yes?” I said, opening the door a crack. There was no one. A chill shot up my spine, but I ignored the feeling and flung the door wide. This was what I saw:
It was Ryan the Zombunny! Yes, I saw the suspiciously lone shoe on the welcome mat, but Ryan was here, and I’d been waiting for his arrival.
“Hey there, little guy. You’re an absolute cutie! I can’t believe the Postal worker opened your box. I’ll have to remember to report this to the Post Office tomorrow.” I picked him up. “After all, it IS a crime to open other people’s mail.”
Ryan looked at me with eyes full of understanding. Well, with ONE eye since the other one was hanging off its socket and was gazing at the floor.
“Are you hungry?” I carried him to the kitchen. On the counter were the vegetables we had scored at the Farmer’s Market the day before. “Oh crap!” I slapped my forehead. “I forgot to get you some cauliflower. Oh well, we have plenty of other things. What do you think? Would you like to try a tomato?”
Ryan turned his nose at my food offering. I sighed. “Guess what, first thing on Monday, I’ll take you to the grocery store and we’ll get you some cauliflower, okay?” He merely hopped off the table in reply. I should have known then that he wasn’t hungry and the shoe still lying on my doormat was a clue.
But I wasn’t playing detective. I was glad to welcome him into our family. Still, it was obvious we weren’t off to a good start, and I wanted desperately to amend this.
So I showed him his bedroom.
And I intoduced him to some friends.
|Strangely enough, no one has seen Mr. Octopus since then.|
I taught him how to operate the TV remote so he could watch his favorite shows.
Needless to say, he quickly changed the show I was watching (TLC’s What Not to Wear) to The Walking Dead.
“Okay,” I said. “You can watch that but only when the kids are not home.” He didn’t answer.
The storm was finally dying down. Rain softly pitter-pattered on the rooftop. The children came home from visiting their Grampa and Nana, and there were ecstatic cries of joys at the sight of our newest “family member”. Ryan had to endure cuddly hugs and tea parties with Tinkerbell, Buzz Lightyear, and the Elephant family. But he didn’t complain. Not a word.
Later, I found out why.
|May the Force be with you, Obi Wan…NOT!|
Alas, the Force was not strong enough to save Obi Wan.
That night, I tossed and turned in my bed and dreamt of being chased by zombies.
Six a.m. came fast enough, and I staggered down the stairs with bleary eyes and hair to rival my friend Bethany’s afro. A little bird chirped happily just outside the window, singing Gisele’s Happy Working Song (from the movie Enchanted), when suddenly there was a whoosh followed by complete silence.
“Get that…that dead thing out of my house,” I cried, but Ryan just stood there. I hurriedly swept the thing away before the children could see it. “Okay, buddy, let’s have a new rule. No bringing dead animals inside.”
His eye widened. Goosebumps prickled my arms. I had the strangest feeling that somehow he didn’t break the rule at all.
Shaking off the chill, I ran back upstairs to get showered. Ryan followed behind me. “No, buddy, I have to get ready. Why don’t you go and play?”
He stared at me from the bottom of the stairs.
After I was done getting ready, I went to the basement to look for Ryan and spied him taking a girl bunny for a ride. Imagine the smile on my face to see him finally having fun.
Unfortunately, fiive minutes later, girl bunny unwisely stopped to chat with a friend.
R.I.P. Mr. Gorilla. Rest in Pieces.
Unnerved, I took Ryan outside to enjoy the summer’s lovely (and rather scorching) sun.
The Boy was helping me water the flowers in the backyard, and Ryan got up to get a closer look. Sweet bonding moment…or was he only gearing up for the pounce?
Luckily, no ghastly incidents occurred.
Evening came and we had survived with hardly any injuries or more beheadings. (Mr. Gorilla underwent extensive sewing surgeries and though he’d have to live the rest of his life as a vegetable–he chose a rutabaga–he is thankful to have his head still attached to his body. Headless toys don’t get second chances. *coughtrashbincough*)
The tension in the house had considerably lightened, and Ryan even conceded to try a tomato. After I read him and the children a bedtime story, Ryan asked to borrow my sparkly tiara.
When he gave it back to me, he pressed his soft face to my cheek. I grimaced, expecting pain. But what I got was a kiss.
|Yikes! My lips are NOT that red in real life. Silly iPhone camera app.|
Welcome home, Ryan.