The nearly mystical rabbird hopped from each shrubbery gnawing and pecking at worms and patches of wheatgrass. This rabbird was scared. He had never known the sweet solace of a friend. He had never sat in the deluge with a lover. He was invariably a loner. Not by choice—no—he was forced into the role of the loner by everyone else. He became a freak because no one else cared about him. He had only wanted a female rabbird or any kind of lover at all. He wanted companionship more than anything in the world.

The rabbird rakishly combed part of his hair over one eye.

Little, innocent Stacey hid underneath the underbrush below her house. She had been sent out to play. Her mother never felt in better esteem with herself than when she had a shot of alcohol in one hand and her vanity in the other; granted, it was before four. Naturally, such activities must take place without little, innocent Stacey.

Stacey came upon the rabbird. Stacey had never seen a rabbird before, yet alone a rabbit or a bird. The rabbird gave her a cool glare that sent a fit of jitters down her spine. There was something terribly or wonderfully upsetting about the rabbird’s devil-may-care attitude.

It was true love since the moment he saw her. The rabbird had been hit with cupid’s love arrow and he had been hit hard. He returned Little, innocent Stacey’s stare. Stacey ran into the house and fetched a knife and some carrots. She bumped into her mother and her shot glass. Her mother was knocked over and was left to a drunken fit on the carpet with her tequila spilt on the rabbit carpet.

Little, innocent Stacey returned with a few carrots and a knife. She cut up the carrots into a small dish for the rabbird. The rabbird, not wanting to offend, ate the carrots enthusiastically, ignoring his weak digestive track. Little, innocent Stacey kept on petting him, her pigtails rushing from side to side as she shook her head in a fit of giggles. The rabbird felt the existential euphoria of new begotten love. His mind quickly fast forwarded do the awaited tumbles and throes of passion. He hoped to hop from each moment with Little, innocent Stacey with an ardor and fervor of untainted, young love.

Stacey took the knife from her hand and made an incision into the rabbird’s stomach. She cut off all of his fur and left the rabbird to die. In the morning, her mother would throw the rabbird’s dead carcass into the middle of the street. Then a car would come and run the rabbird over and he would get stuck onto the wheel of the car. There will always be a blood soaked stain on the road from the rabbird’s quaint death.

Little, innocent Stacey thought he would make a good hat.