Tuesday, November 2

So since before Halloween we've been stuck in our house with no windows or doors and our friend the enormous bunny rabbit continously foaming at the mouth and repeating "i'm a ghost and i'm haunting you." It's gotten really, really, really old. Not even a little scary anymore. Just boring and annoying.

"i'm a ghost and i'm haunting you," enormous rabbit says in her strange, ephemeral voice. Like she's talking from down a long metal pipe.

I still have my shovel. Maybe I can tunnel through the carpet to freedom.

"Hey, Midnight." Mr. Happy Puppet Head whispers to me.

"What's up?" I answer.

"i'm a ghost and i'm haunting you," says enormous bunny.

"Kill the enormous bunny with your shovel." He says. "Hit it over the head with your shovel and kill it."

"Um..." I think about it. "No, I don't think it's her fault. I think she's posessed."

"So what. Kill her. Or I'll do it, whatever. Then we can eat her, too. I think we're all out of granola bars and beer."

"No, she's our best friend and we need to figure out how to make her not possessed anymore." I hold my shovel tight. "We owe her that. How do you make a pet not possessed anymore?"

"We could give her a bath."

So we drag her by her big enormous rabbit ears and manage to get her frothing chanting, moaning body into the tub. We turn on the faucet and out comes the hot water, but instead of hot water it's boiling blood. It'll have to do.

I pour the shampoo over her fur, but it's been turned into puss. This whole haunting/possession thing is getting way out of hand. Let me tell you.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head and I both take up wash cloths, but they've been turned into pieces of human flesh, screaming and crying in agony. We scrub that chanting enormous bunny with the blood and the puss and the flesh, we scrub and scrub. "i'm a ghost and i'm haunting you," she says. "i'm a ghost and i'm haunting you." I take one of our extra pieces of screaming flesh and stuff it in her mouth for a gag. That helps.

So after about a half-an-hour of scrubbing and scrubbing, her eyes kind of get more normal, her frothing subsides, and she stops chanting so frequently.

"Now all she needs is fresh air, the ghost is almost gone." I say. I don't know what I'm talking about at all.

Some of the windows have come back, but only halfway. We have to drag the bunny out of one of the half-windows. It's harder than you would think. To drag an enormous catatonic possess bunny out of a window only halfway reappeared. Damn.

Out in the backyard the air is crisp and wonderfully fall. I was sure getting depressed sitting in our blood soaked house with no windows. It's mid-afternoon. One of my favorite times of the day. Plenty of time to do all the things that need doing. Yes. Like exorcisms.

"What now?" asks Mr. Happy Puppet Head. "Jumping jacks?" The pile of animal parts is rotting on the other side of the yard. Flies buzz around.

"Maybe. Sure." So we do jumping jacks, or rather I do jumping jacks, Mr. Happy Puppet Head bobbles up and down, and enormous rabbit stares at us, just a glint of unholy evil in it's eye. And slowly that glint fades away, and finally is gone.

Enormous bunny, tired from all that possession, rolls over and curls up to sleep.

"Hey, let's go get some tacos or something," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head.

I nod my head. Tacos or something would hit the spot perfectly.

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