Here I sit—still, in this same place under the weeping Pine. Who ever heard of a weeping pine? I am gullible; at first I thought it was just sad, but now I learn it has Gaga-esque aspirations: it was born that way.
Look around me! Pine needles everywhere!!!
I should talk; I am made of plaster, I think, though my grandmother assured me that I was made of concrete and would outlast civilization. Nothing of me has chipped, so perhaps she told the truth.
My ‘master’ the writer has sent me here today to tell you he is busy. That’s why he doesn’t post so much right now. Doesn’t he understand the rudiments of popularity and world domination on the web??? Apparently he does not.
He’s not made of concrete or plaster, and apparently this gives him a sense of mortality. So he is busy. Writing novels. Writing short stories. Inside tip: he’s going to put some of it here at some point. Or so I have heard. He’ll probably charge you for the privilege; all writers do that, you know. They want to be paid. I AM NOT PAID! I WRITE, TOO! Et tu, Wodaski?
[He keeps making excuses about all of it.]
Sigh. So I remain here, a plaster (or possibly, concrete) bunny—ill-tempered as always (and would you not, too, be ill-tempered if you found yourself parked for some reasonable subset of eternity under a sad-sack Pine Tree that sheds so profusely that, at some point, I may be buried in its ‘tears’?).
I have no further smart remarks, jokes, or stories about the master, so that’s about it for today. [Do you know of any way a concrete/plaster bunny could make his escape? If so, please email. Or send money. The master is not the only greedy bastard around here.]
Signed, the Bitter Bunny
PS: You know what frosts my ass? (Besides winter, that is.) Look at this photo he took of the back yard. The Back Yard Gets Sunshine!, even in this far northern latitude. I’m told (I can’t see it from here on any given day, actually, fucking pine tree…) that the sun gets no higher than the height of a mouse at twelve paces. Because of angular something something.
If you see the boss, tell him I want a relocation deal back there. Or just steal his wheelbarrow and move me. Help!