Oh no, oh no, oh no
nonononoooo, I’m alone
Delores, where is my wife? Delores darling, where are you?
She hasn’t become invisible too has she? She can’t be, she’s a harlequin, everybody knows they’re earth bunnies, not from Bunnifrey!
Lolo darling?
No…
Breakfast, whatever. It’s been a cold, long, dark, lonely night without my dearest Delores. Shove off with your parsnip willya, I’ll just lie here in my own poo and die.
Oh yea, why not, go on, just pick me up like that, I thought we’d left that behind when we invented the taxi service but noooo, we just pick up the Bink just as easily no matter what he might happen to be doing. That’s right, smelly. That’s what you get when you pick up a bun who’s been lying in his own wee all night out of sheer grief…
Why are we going into the house?
Delores! You have breakfast! And a clean poo-poo tray! And a soft blanket to lie on, oooh, my favourite, I do like ’em you know, soft on the belly, nice and cosy, are you eating that parsnip? Ooh, I feel very full and warm all of a sudden, need a snooze… Sorry, you were saying darling?
The Bunnington Post 