My bunny rabbit needs replacement batteries. Sometime during September it lost steam. A very great pity.
Like all credit and collections professionals, I have a robotic daemon on my desk, whose sole purpose is to torture coworkers.
In this case, an electronic Easter beast.
If you press him, he starts to sing.
Out of tune, and out of season.
It's sheer hell to hear.
Pay me now, bad debt saddled person, or I'll send him after you.
Send her. Not him. Something so evil can only be female.
A veritable Madame Mao among the leporids.
Horrid taste and a vicious streak.
[Hello Kitty, My Little Pony, and Dora The Explorah: all female. The sex of Michelle Bachman and Sarah Palin has a lot to answer for. Hoper edei deixai, and punkt.]
Women tend to be so much better at meanness (singing) and cruelty (off-key singing) than men; we hide it well, but we are actually deeply sensitive. Our souls cry out for beauty and light.
Unhappiness and sorrow, even if we are not directly involved, wound us.
Well, except for jocks, that is.
They are so vacuous and superficial that they might as well be cheerleaders.
Bring on the evil bunnies.
There is balance in the world.
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