Monday, March 26, 2012
One Man's Trash ...
“Scat, not again.” Digger upended the cage trap and dumped his “catch” onto the lawn. The fluffy bunny righted itself and glared up at him over such disrespectful treatment. “You might as well switch,” he told the rabbit. “I don’t eat sentients. Lucky for you my nose can tell the difference.”
The rabbit fastidiously brushed its paws over its long, silky fur, straightened up on its hind legs and shifted into a petite golden blonde with curvy hips and big feet. She continued to brush dirt and dew off her skin, all the while growling in a most unrabbitty manner.
“A trap?” she snapped at the wolf, with a curt gesture at the offending apparatus. “You use traps?”
“Sometimes I don’t feel like chasing my dinner. Which is real rabbits, not you guys. You should know better than to raid a wolf’s garden anyway. Look, there’s a sign right there.”
“Since when do wolves grow veggies?” the rabbit retorted, pointedly ignoring the prominent “Herbies keep out, this means YOU” sign right behind her. “You probably don’t even eat half this stuff.”
“No, but the things I do eat love it. So does the human I’m dating. Oh, get that look off your face. Everybody dates a human at least once. Mine likes salads and home-made spaghetti, so stay away from the tomatoes.”
The rabbit eyed the rows of lettuce slyly. “She can’t eat that much. What happens to the rest of it? You just let it rot?”
Digger glared at the sassy bunny. “Okay, just this once. Take what you want and get out, before I haul you inside for breakfast, and not in a good way, either.”
# # #
Lorelei hustled home with her booty, an armful of Romaine lettuce. She had big plans for both the lettuce and the evening. Tonight was her anniversary with her boyfriend Bobby, and she intended to make the party unforgettable.
She probably shouldn’t have been so hard on the wolf for liking to play in the dirt. Everyone should have a hobby. Lorelei’s was creating her own garments, using her own fur—a major advantage to being an Angora rabbit. She’d been wondering what kind of dress to sew to tantalize Bobby with when her nose had drawn her to the wolf’s garden, and inspiration struck.
She added a little skip to her gait as she dashed through the woods to her cottage. She didn’t have much time. If all went well, this would be a dinner to remember.
# # #
“Hey, baby.” Bobby breezed into Lorelei’s cottage and tossed his leather jacket over a chair. Knowing Lorelei’s appetites, the rest of his outfit would probably join it before they got halfway through dinner. “Your big bad buck is here.”
“Just a minute,” Lorelei sang from the kitchen. “I’m putting the finishing touches on dinner.”
Bobby flopped onto the sofa and began to loosen his belt. He knew that tone in Lorelei’s voice. Among rabbits, “hello” counted as foreplay. “What are we having?”
Lorelei stepped out of the kitchen and posed provocatively in the doorway. “Greens.”
Bobby’s jaw dropped. She’d made herself a skimpy minidress that just barely covered the hot bunny bits—all out of broad lettuce leaves. A ring of ranch dressing around her neck and down into her cleavage served in lieu of a necklace. She twirled to give him the full effect. “What do you think?”
Bobby had already stopped thinking with his upper head. He bounded off the sofa and over to Lorelei and took in a deep-lunged sniff. “Farm fresh,” he pronounced huskily. “Where’d you get this? Not from the supermarket.”
“Some wolf’s put in a veggie plot. He’s growing it for his girlfriend or something.” She waved a leaf of her “bra” under his nose. “You like?”
“Me like.” The big buck nibbled at her Romaine bodice. His tongue kept slipping off the greens and onto her bosom. Lorelei didn’t complain. “So this is dinner?”
“This is dinner. Once you finish your vegetables … ” She tore a strip off her skirt and chewed on it suggestively. “Then you get dessert.”
He buried his nose in the dressing dripping between her boobs. “Here’s to vegetarianism.”