Through the Bunny-Glass

I suppose I could spare a minute or two to tell you, my loyal readers, about the time I spent down under. And no, not the yay fun down under where I can toss a boomerang on the arbie and pet a koala named Dundee, but the brr brr stuck under several feet of snow down under. You know, the one I shouldn't have been in for the wellfare of my own life.

Anyways, how did I survive may you wonder? Well, I wasn't a very happy customer when the leaf pile turned out to be a trap. I bet it was set by Mike - I need to keep a closer eye on him [ed: Don't listen to Renny, the coldness went straight to his brain]. The echoes of his snickering chilled my fur as the earth crumbled below my paws, casting me into the bonecrunching oblivion of dirt.

A month passed, leaving me to nibble on passing bugs and spend my days repeating "99 Bottles of Carrot Juice on the Wall" ad infinitium. A nail-sized hole permitted the continuation of my primal breathing functions. I could hear the sounds of sleigh bells and tidings of merriment taunt me from above. That is around when the Great Frost began.

It started as a howling wind, blasting my fur with its fierce breath. Slowly, the snow crystals sept into the soil. I fervently tore at the groundm and was able to open my prison cell to a more luxurious burrow. In other words, I could lift my feet without touching the corroted sides of my terra cavern. I was even able to catch a stiffened worm and affix several ants, creating my own Charlie Brown tree.

The remainder of the winter months were spent nibbling on a millipede (who tasted more like a centipede, blech) and humming several 'N Sync songs (don't judge - you'd do the same if a family of neighboring crickets chirped Lady Gaga day and night, day and night...).

I went into a sort of hallucinagetic phase late February. All the snow turned to Jell-O ®, and I swear I was visited by a snowman who said his name was Bronto. I kept this part from the doctors here - didn't want them diving into my drug history. It was the '70s - what would you have done?

Anyways, March came around and the snow began to melt. At that point my fur was so heavy I started sinking into the muddy pit of not-god-at-all. My cute little black buttony eyes were being smothered by granules of much, and I figured I'd finally test that Mythbusters experiment of getting buried underground (sans steely woden protection). The skies opened up, and I heard the noise of my personal deity coming to deliver me to that great carrot in the sky - woof?

Apparently some dogs were nearby getting sloshed, and picked up on my desperate pleaing in the form of various obscenities. Unconscious at the time, I was taken here, and thus here I am, residing in this protective buble of shame. They said I should be able to get outta here soon, but until then I'll just make Mike transcribe as much as I can possibly squeeze in before my next temperate therapy session.

Yup, they're calling me now. So yeh, watch out for those leaf piles, and I hope I can roam more than three feet soon. Cheers!