I spent much of Saturday biting the heads off rabbits.
Don't jump to conclusions. I'm not a circus performer, nor a heartless bunny-killer. But I AM addicted to Peeps. So when I saw that Walmart had placed them on an endcap last Monday, I stocked up. Apparently, yellow rabbits are the red-headed stepchild of the Peeps family. I grabbed three packs. Because you can never have enough Peeps.
When I opened them, I planned to eat two. Only two. Two Peepy rabbits. The ears went first. They have the most radioactively-colored neon yellow sugar. Mmm...Then I bit off the head. To show mercy. It was quick. That lifeless bunny never knew what hit him. I got three bites out of the body. Then started on number two. Before I knew it, both squishy snacks were gone! And there were two in the pack that had lost their chorus-line partners. One had gaping, sugarless wounds on his side. Exposed marshmallow without sugar. That had to smart. So of course I found it necessary to put those two out of their misery.
Momentarily sated, flying high on a sugar rush, I vowed to save the rest of the rabbit Peeps until the next day.
You know how this is going to end, don't you? Several hours later, I hear those Peeps calling me. "Where are our brethren? We must be reunited. You are the prime suspect. We demand that you take us to them. Forthwith." Those sniveling sugar bunnies sure did talk big. And since they asked for it...I acquiesced.
Later that night, four lonely bunny Peeps silently cried themselves to sleep over their missing conjoined siblings. What better time to dispatch them? One minute they were snoozing, dreaming little bunny dreams, oblivious to the horror that had befallen their close-knit family. And the next, they were oblivious. Out of harm's way. Digesting in my stomach acid.
It's hard out here for a Peep.