How it ended.

The bunny.

The bunny was a gift from Jenny's bridal shower. She was deemed a slut. She was thrown around the house. Jokes were made about her pearl necklace. She was hidden under bed sheets, propped above the toilet. Left lurking outside bedroom doors. She mysteriously appeared where nobody wanted her, and we all talked about violating her in some uncomfortable, profane, sticky, messy way. From what I hear, she was truly the star of Mark's bachelor party.

At the end of the summer, Mark stuffed her in my clothes basket, right next to my sweaty summer socks and dirty underwear. I discovered her when I got home. First, the floral of her dress--what the hell shirt is that?--and then her ears. I pulled her out and laughed. Then she stayed at my parents' house. I threw her on the shelf behind the dryer, and nobody at home asked what the hell she was. She just moved up to the top of the refrigerator in the basement. In the process, she lost her headpiece.

I finally returned her to Green Bay last week. She was the first thing I brought into the house. Jenny laughed; Mark was in the shower. I set her outside the door. Mark finished and opened the door, and we just heard SLUT! and then saw her fly across the living room and into the dining room. She was home.

Jenny decided to make her angry, took a black pen and drew angled eyebrows over her black-jewel eyes. We continued to kick her across the floor. We lifted up her dress and commented on her glued-on legs. She looked like a turkey under there.

When we were at the movies, Mark took the bunny and flipped her over on the couch. Then he put a Kleenex next to her. And a condom opened and out of its wrapper. What a slut. Mark was downstairs. Jenny and I hollered about the violation on the couch.

We dressed her up for New Years. She held the decorations.

And on New Years, when we were drunk, she finally met her demise. The bunny met Webster, and it was a hungry Webster. First went her ears. Then a leg. It was a slobber-filled, stuffing-esque masacre. And that was how it ended.

(And a happy twenty-ten. Let it be bunny free.)