Dang Plot Bunnies! – A Short Story

Since the news is reporting 13 inches of snow in places and they are expecting 12-15 total inches of snow, I’m stuck at home today.  Literally.  So here is a little bonus story to celebrate a snow day in Kansas!

Type, type, type.  It was finally flowing.  John knew this story was going to be hard, but the level of violence and emotional anger had made it insanely difficult.  Some stories told themselves, others had to be wrestled to the ground, punched a few times, kicked once or twice and then the real fight started.

The glimmering golden line of sunlight draped itself across John’s keyboard like a lounging cat.  Early morning was a great time to write.  The steam off his coffee haunted the sunbeam like an ethereal wraith.  Wraith … wraith …

Perfect!

John hammered away at the story some more before he heard a soft padding sound.  It was the soft, warm sound of paws on the hardwood floor.  But it wasn’t the constant padding of Doctor Fizzywinkle, his cat.  Fizzball … no, it was an intermittent padding.  Something soft was hopping toward him.

Turning around, John saw an odd little blue bunny hopping toward him.  A blue haze was drifting off the rabbit’s body, like the steam emitted by his coffee and it had a little pair of square glasses on its wiggly pink nose.

“Pardon me sir,” the rabbit said, sitting down next to John’s leg.

John’s hands were shaking and his breath was lodged in his gut, “Y … wha …”

“Don’t worry,” the rabbit smiled, “I’m going to be your plot bunny today.”

That rabbit talked!  It was a blue ghost rabbit with glasses and it could talk!

“You’re my what?” John scratched his nose.  The wiggling of the bunny’s nose made his own nose itch.

“I’m your plot bunny for the day,” the rabbit smiled.  “My name is Science Fiction.”

“I don’t get it,” John watched the rabbit closely.  Plot bunnies were just ideas, they weren’t … real.

“Oh yes you do,” the rabbit grinned with ornery intent.  “Because you just got a brilliant idea for an interstellar exotic dancer.”  Science Fiction bunny pushed his glasses up his nose.

John felt his eyes grow wide, “And her planet gets attacked by a rival race.  Then she is taken as a slave for the ruler of the other planet and is forced to dance for him!”

“You got it!” the bunny cheered, clapping his paws.  “Then what?”

Grabbing his notepad, John started sketching and making character notes.  It was brilliant!  He could explore so many concepts!  What was the Grand Argument going to be?  He needed an impact character …

John typed and scratched madly as the bunny hopped away.  Hour after hour he plugged away at his science fiction story until he looked up at dinner time.  He hadn’t written anything!  And his agent wanted the first ten chapters of his horror story by the next week.

“Dang it!” John exclaimed out loud and pulled up his horror story again.

Where was he?  Oh!  The wraith.  That was it.  Ignoring the nagging thoughts about the visitation by the plot bunny, John wrote long into the night.

*  *  *

Opening his eyes, John groaned.  This one was purple and was lying on John’s other pillow.  Unlike the first, this one didn’t have glasses, but was wearing a fedora.  Purple wisps of smoke glided off of the rabbit as it winked at John.

“So, what’cha think?” the rabbit asked.

“Where the hell are you guys coming from?” John asked.  Was he going crazy?  The doctor had put him on a normal antidepressant and had said he didn’t need an antipsychotic.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the grinning rabbit winked.

“Get out of here!” John shooed the new rabbit, “Your buddy cost me an entire day and I’ve got a deadline!”

The bunny didn’t even flinch, “Oh, I’m not going anywhere.”

John slapped his hands over his ears, “I can’t hear you!” he said, rolling out of bed.  “La! La! La!  You’re not here!”

Rushing into the bathroom, he froze in his tracks.  The shower was on and the little purple rabbit was scrubbing away, shampooing its fuzzy fur.

“Oh I’m a little bunny!” the rabbit sang, “And I’m here to say.  That me and my brothers are going to stay!”

John turned around and ran into the door, trying to hide from the bunny, “I love westerns, yes I do!  I love westerns and that’s what you’ll do!”

Nooo!  The idea was already blooming in John’s mind.  The year would be 4234 and the planet would be in chaos.

“You got it, you got it,” the rabbit changed its song, “Uh, uh, you got it.”  It shook its little tail in the shower.

Aaah!  The main character would be a gunslinger and he had to transport a cyborg woman across the desert.  She would be the key to turning on the new power source they had invented.

“Yeah, you got it!  Yeeeaah boyeeee,” the rabbit shook his bunny booty in the shower.

*  *  *

Another day blown!  Two days down on the hardest story he had ever written and those dang plot bunnies wouldn’t leave him alone!

Type, type, type.  John kept his head down, his focus was unshakable.  He was writing like a madman.  He was a machine, a writing robot.

A robot with a plan.

The heavy clank behind him told John that the new rabbit was caught.  Then another clank.  He had brought reinforcements, but John was ready.  Putting his earbuds in, John turned on his music just as another trap clanked shut.

They were good ideas, just not right now.

By the end of the day, John turned off his music.  It had been an extremely productive day.  He was back on schedule and ready to see what his traps had caught …

Twenty-two!  A rainbow of accessorized rabbits sat grumpily in their cages with pouty faces under their wiggly pink noses.

“So what do we do with you guys?” John asked them.  “Any ideas?”

A few of the rabbits shook their heads.  The others wouldn’t look at John.

“Well then,” John clapped his hands together.  “Lets get something to eat and I’ll see your buddies tomorrow!”

*  *  *

“Okay, you promised,” Sherryl whined, “You promised to tell me where your ideas come from if I published your cowboy and cyborg story.  You promised after the third book.”

John leaned against the doors of his shed with a smirk, “You sure you want to know?”

“Yes!” Sherryl pleaded, “I wanna know.”

An agent had never even wanted to read his book before, but now John had one visiting his house and wanting to know where his ideas came from.  Time to show her.

“Here you go,” John chuckled, opening the doors.

Inside, stacked to the ceiling were hundreds of cages.  Hundreds upon hundreds of cages and in each cage was a technicolor bunny with an accessory of some kind.

“What are they ..?” Sherryl said in awe.

“Plot bunnies,” John chuckled.  “Just a bunch of dang plot bunnies.”

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About Webgoji

I am a member of the Kansas Writers Association and Wichita Writers Guild. I have successfully completed National Novel Writing Month and have completed 3 different novels. My first novel "The Fay Dragon Chronicles" unfortunately wasn't published, but I am currently trying to get my second book "The Seraphim Protocol" published. View all posts by Webgoji

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