Part 1: Animal Arising (or the Birth of the Rabbit of DOOM)
|Once upon a time, a long, long time ago a rabbit was bouncing around happily like all the bunnies in New York. It was a sunny day in the late 1890s and she didn’t have a care in the world. All the animal catchers were far away and the wolves were all in Hollywood movies. It was a peaceful day, so she decides to go for a long hop to stretch her long, bouncy legs. She hopped out of her burrow and bounced along the side of the road; she jumped across the big oval, bounded past the supermarket and took a short break at the pharmacy.
Who knows why she stopped there because there were plenty of nice places to stop. Places like the grassy park, the ice cream store that had a nice owner who always gave the rabbit (who he named Mr. Boing-Boing, unaware that the rabbit is a girl) free ice cream, or even the local impound where the workers there were always nice enough to bring out a nice netted blanket. The rabbit never needed the blanket so she just bounced away, with the employee who always ran after her screaming good-bye. That’s why I don’t know why she went to the pharmacy instead of the three other nice places. The rabbit looked through the window, the opaque shutter was down but because rabbits have such good eyesight, she could see through. She saw the old, mysterious pharmacist look warily around and put a box of containers holding some sort of pills in a cupboard. The box had a strange sign on it; it almost looked like a biohazard symbol. The rabbit erroneously known as Mr. Boing-Boing wanted to investigate further but it suddenly started to rain. The rabbit wasn’t afraid of the rain so she merrily and a bit glumly started to hop away from her evening hop back to her burrow.
One thing I need to tell you about the rabbit is that she can sense danger, like most rabbits, but even better. Maybe that is why she stopped at the pharmacy. Who knows what was in the box, the rabbit never found out; but it wasn’t the last time her small eyes fell on the pharmacist. Mr. Boing-Boing went back around the supermarket and through the oval. Forgetting all about the pharmacy; the rabbit was having fun inanely bouncing around, but she had learnt how to deal with life’s slight disappointment and she just continues to bounce along happily as her psychological therapist suggests. (And coincidently also what her physical therapist suggests.) The rabbit was almost at her burrow; she just had to pass a foggy road.
If by now you think this is a story about a happy rabbit that comes to no misfortune beside a rainy day and that the rabbit travels the world or learns how to fly with her ears, you are wrong and you should read something else because this is the story of the birth of the most diabolical rabbit ever. But, if you’ve already started to read this you might as well read on, but it is going to get worse from here because… when she crossed the road; BANG… Her sense of danger had failed her.
If you’re going to understand the rest of this story I will have to tell you what happened at a nearby hanging ground where two scientist were hanging around (not by there necks, of course). One scientist had an orange afro and wore overalls up to his chin; the other was bald and had a hunched back. They weren’t a very impressive duo. They had never done anything useful. At the moment, they were planning to grave rob the brain of the next person to be hanged, so they could transplant an unconscious brain into the preferably un-dissipated cadaver of another dead guy proving with two dead people and a little bit of lighting you can get a single electrocuted corpse. If only that was true like everybody thought, especially me, I wouldn’t be telling you this story.
The indescribable sound of a person falling from a platform and the catching of the criminal’s neck by the rope woke the scientists from the near sleep induced by their waiting for the reverend to finish his ramblings about God saving the accused soul. They were thinking if there really is a God (which they are sure there isn’t) that He wouldn’t forgive a ten time almost cannibalistic serial killer. The slightly taller non-hunchbacked scientist, formally known as Fred, (which is an abbreviation of his real name Fro ob De, which is gibberish for [a person who is] freakishly obsessed with the dead. Like him his parents were insane. But coincidently he is freakishly obsessed with the dead.), turned to the slightly saner non-overall wearing scientist named Eagor (wearing a lab coat) and asked which of the three most recent hanging victims’ brain they should use.
One of the three hanged criminals was a rich businessman named Donald who was sentenced to death for crimes against humanity after funding the idea of a metal tube shooting lead using an exploding powder. The second one an ingenious scientist (unlike Fred) who thought up and created the lead firing death tool newly known as a gun, named Albert. The third person was also involved with the gun; he stole it from the professor’s lab and used it to kill 10,000 defenceless people and was already a wanted serial killer before the massacre. He was finally caught two days before the hangings; the police used a recently designed machine called the automobile to run him down. Because Fred’s brain is as unstable as the unnamed maniacs, he didn’t decide to use the brain of the billionaire businessman who could have helped them make millions or the scientist with an IQ of 220 who actually could make Fred look smart, he decided to use the brain of the genicidal psychopath who if brought back to life could potentially harm millions of people.
Eagor, who needed a new toothbrush, (his old one he has had for fifteen years passed down from his grandma) wanted it to be the millionaire answered the “risch ohne” (the rich one).
“Quiet Eagor, if I wanted your opinion I would've asked,” Fred snarled in reply.
“You did ask; a few paragraphs ago. Yes, the author did wander off a bit there.”
“What the hell are you talking about and what happened to your lisp”? Fred yelled.
“Oh, my lisp it just disappeared, it was too hard for the author to write, I guess”, answered Eagor.
“I may be insane myself but your insanity gives me a head ache”, complained Fred.
Sorry, about interrupting the meaningful conversation, but at the same time that Mr. Boing-Boing watched the pharmacist suspiciously only two kilometres away, the falling rain started to fill the freshly dug graves with water. The incoherent conversation between the fourth-rate scientists went on; with Eagor commenting that admitting your problem is the first step to recovery, until Fred ended the ranting by deciding without needing to think that he wanted… “The murders brain”, declared Fred.
“What”, said Eagor waking from a lapse of attention caused by his own ramblings.
“Me want murderer’s brain”, Fred said idiotically.
“But the billionaire”, moaned Eagor indignantly; hoping that a stubborn sociopath would change his mind.
“It’s my choice, get the body and put it in the hearse”, commanded Fred.
“We don’t have a hearse”, said Eagor knocking down the executioner with a stolen version of the gun (which Fred claims he created) and then firing it in to the air.
“Yes we do, it’s the car we always drive”, replied Fred picking up the dead murderer and dragging him out of his grave.
“That’s a station wagon”, said Eagor incredulously, helping with the corpse.
“Well I guess it is”, replied Fred lifting his idol’s corpse into the obvious station wagon. “It’s the same thing though,” he said shrugging. The two scientists got in the car, with Fred dangerously in the driver’s seat they sped away.
A car had hit the rabbit: Fred’s car. Fred didn’t mean to hit the rabbit, but he was glad he did because just before he hit the beloved rabbit he told Eagor that all they needed was a body and then he started to laugh maniacally, throwing back his head sealing the rabbit known to some as Mr. Boing-Boing’s fate.
You would probably think that Fred and Eagor would want a human body, well Eagor did; he thought it would be easier to operate on (seeing that he actually was the one doing the operation) but Fred didn’t care what Eagor wanted and would settle for a decapitated ant. “Oh, no we hit a poor little bunny wabbit”, wailed Eagor.
“What do you mean we, you were driving”, Fred said condescendingly, “but it doesn’t matter because we need a body and there it is”.
“How are we going to get the human’s brain into the rabbit’s body”, said Eagor picking up the rabbit, looking at it sadly and reluctantly putting it in the car. He knew that even if he argued, he would still be putting the late Mr. Boing-Boing in the grey station wagon.
“We’ll shrink it”, Fred said simply getting back into the car.
“How?” exclaimed Eagor, also getting in the car.
“We’ll get a shrink”, answered Fred starting the engine of the newly invented, recently stolen automobile.
The rabbit lay there in the stolen station wagon thought by Fred to be a hearse with a still genicidal corpse. The rabbit was unconscious but still alive; you could say she was in a bunny coma. The bloodthirsty assassin’s brain was also containing brain waves however dim they were. You would think Fred meant to get a functioning brain (it doesn’t matter if the body doesn’t work – as long as the brain was once a part of a living organism) but he didn’t care. He was lucky that it was alive because if it wasn’t he would never of succeeded and I wouldn’t be telling you this sad, sad story and New York would have been safe from the terror of the bunny, but alas luckily for Fred (Eagor didn’t really care – absently hoping it would fail) and unluckily for the residents of New York, the lunatic was still alive (his brain at least).
The rabbit, Mr. Boing-Boing as her collar would suggest, was having an unconscious dream. Memories of her childhood came flashing back, the day she was born (she was born on a farm; the first of four siblings) to the day the tragedy happened where she saw the green fields for the last time. She reencountered the day the farmer was forced to shoot her mum because she had a plague that could kill the other rabbits. She re-enacted the day she graduated from bunny school (rabbits are smarter and more organised than you think) and the day she finally left the farm for a more happy life. She remembered every thing in her short but happy life. When you die (even if you are a rabbit) your life does flash before your eyes.
“Where are we going?” asked Eagor after clinging to his seat hoping that they wouldn’t crash into another animal or at all.
“I told you before, we’re going to a psychiatrist’s”, replied Fred gloating about his magnificent idea and almost driving into a tree.
“We’re in the middle of a forest,” said Eagor sure that Fred was lost (it turns out he wasn’t). “Isn’t your brother a psychiatrist”?
“MY BROTHER”, yelled Fred mockingly, spinning their car around on a ninety degree angle causing the car to flip onto its roof.
The thing about Fred and his brother is that Fred hates his brother but his brother loves him (in a brotherly way). Fred’s brothers’ life – well, frankly it sucks but he always remains incredibly optimistic. Well, not only is he optimistic, he’s also addicted to ‘happy pills’ (antidepressants, mood stabilisers and anti-anxiety medications which he prescribed for himself). That’s one of the reasons why Fred didn’t like him, but the main reason is that Fred tries really hard to forget about his childhood but every time he sees his brother, the memories keep coming back. Their parents were horrible; they wouldn’t let their sons go to sleep until they had eaten their macaroni and cheese dinner (there mum used small mackerel intestines as macaroni). In the end their dad drank himself into a ten-year coma (he drank mostly bloodied champagne – that he had made look like red wine), which he woke out of three years from this date, only to die the next day. Their mother died two years after their dad went into the coma, under mysterious circumstances.
Fred’s brother did well to forget about his past, it’s most likely the pills made him forget or possibly because he was dropped on his head a lot by his drunken father as a baby. If his long-term memory was a lot better and he did remember he would have been bitter and depressed like his brother, but in an optimistic way. Fred didn’t like the memories he got from his brother and he hated his insipid happiness but he enormously envied the fact he had won one of the first Nobel Prizes, which was only because he had been a friend to the late Alfred Nobel and had counselled with him before he died. When asked what he thought about his brother winning a Nobel Prize, Fred, thinking they were wondering if he was all right with it, answered: ‘Yeah, it doesn’t matter, I don’t want one anyway, who would want an award named after the guy who made dynamite.” “I love dynamite”, he whispered to himself as he ran to a corner so he could cry. Fred hadn’t seen his brother since they moved out of his mother’s house at the age of thirty-two. So now you can see why Fred didn’t want to see his brother and did an incredibly stupid stunt on the road.
“Well, I guess I’ll get out of the car and turn it back on to its wheels”, said Eagor casually, as he hung loosely upside down. (Yes, the first car did have seatbelts, but they took them off on later models because some various people protested against it saying they didn’t like hanging upside down when the car flips on to its roof. The belt was again used for cars in the year 1935 after being tested on airplanes). Eagor got out of the car, “He can’t be that bad, can he”? Eagor asked Fred as he tried to turn the car back on to its wheels.
Fred got out of the car to help Eagor with, what he thought was, a feeble attempts to lift the car, “Of course he’s ‘that bad’”, said Fred, “he’s evil I tell you, he’s been nothing but bad news since the day he was born; he tore our parents apart and he hasn’t been very nice to me either; sending me those fish eggs and laminated pieces of paper.
“Do you mean the money and the caviar”, said Eagor referring to the last time Fred heard from his brother. At that time, his brother had sent a letter with some money and a box of caviar. It has now been thirteen months since Fred has heard from his brother seeing that he has cut of all connections and moved houses making sure that after he ate his expensive food he would never see or hear from him again. “Do you want me to drive”, continued Eagor. Fred looked at him mockingly: “No I’ll continue to drive, I don’t want any more road kill.” Fred got into the car after lifting it onto its wheels. “No offence,” he said to Eagor as they got into the car, “but you’re a terrible driver, it’s just not safe for the animals”, he said as he backed into a deer and drove away.
“We’re here Eagor,” said Fred after two hours of driving, “after two hours of looking, we finally found the closest Psychiatry centre”.
“We passed seven psychiatry centres on the way here including your bro… never mind”, said Eagor quickly regretting his words as he got out of the car.
“This dysfunctional psychopath brain that I’ll soon have to cut out of its body would make a better psychiatrist than my idiotically arrogant brother”, mocked Fred bitterly. Fred’s brother wasn’t really arrogant; he was a bit idiotic, but not arrogant. He was actually quite modest. He didn’t have much to be modest about, but when he won the Nobel Prize he said he didn’t deserve it against some of the other nominees (which to be honest, he didn’t, seeing that, as his psychiatrist he had encouraged Alfred Nobel on the idea of the exploding red stick known as dynamite). He also thanked his entire discouraging family as he accepted his award. Eagor knew this, and that’s what he thought as he watched Fred decapitate the still lethal corpse. When Fred parted the murderer’s head from its body he started cutting around the diameter of his scalp with a scalpel, he then pulled the brain from its head and put it in one of the many water filled glass jars he keeps in the stolen car he drives. “Come on Eagor you can wait in the waiting room”, Fred said as he for some reason laughed at his overly empathised sentence. Eagor hobbled as fast as his hunched back would let him go, to the entrance of the psychiatry centre; employed there was Dr Bereavement (it’s just his name).
Dr Bereavement was actually a reasonably good doctor of psychiatry and he had seen a lot of strange things in his time but none as weird as the one he was about to see as he came out of his office to talk to his receptionist. What he saw was a person with a head that appeared to be made out of a ball of orange hair carrying a water-filled glass jar containing a psychopaths brain (he could actually tell that it was a psychopaths) followed by a deformed, hobbling man with a hunch back yelling; ‘I need a skink’. Some but not many psychiatry centres and hospitals back then still believed that mental illness was caused by supernatural reasons and would put Fred and Eagor in an insane asylum or gave them an immediate exorcism but seeing that Dr Bereavement and the hospital he worked for didn’t believe in the fifth century theory; he brought them both into his office, cancelling all of his appointments.
“Do you suffer from dementia or any other newly-discovered mental illnesses?” said Dr Bereavement as he walked Fred to his office. Eagor had been shown to the waiting room and now Dr Bereavement is talking to Fred about his mental state.
When they got to Dr Bereavements office Fred said: “I know you probably don’t get that many ingenious scientists around here, they’re probably all brain-carrying lunatics,” he looked down at the jar he was still holding, “but I’m here on part of a science experiment, I’m going to attempt a new operation, the brain transplant, except that both participants are already dead. I’m going to call it the Fredectomy.
“Dr Bereavement looked at Fred; “Did you have any emotional stress as a child,” he said, “did your parents hit you with any thing heavier than a ruler, did they deprive you of any legal rights even after you turned twelve”.
“No, but my dad did come to my school drunk once,” replied Fred, “and then he shot all my friends with a crossbow, that was a sad day”, he sighed. “But you don’t get it, I’m not here about myself, I’m not insane, I’m just here about this brain that’s in my jar. You see, with the Fredectomy I’m going to put the brain that is in the jar into the body of a rabbit; I just don’t think it’ll fit.
“You… you didn’t kill this person, did you?” asked Dr Bereavement as he looked at the buoyant brain.
“No, of course not; I just stole the corpse from its grave after the person had been hanged for serial killings,” answered Fred. “But the point is that I need the brain to be shrunk and you’re a brain shrink”. Dr Bereavement continued to stare at the brain but then he had had enough, he quickly wrote something down on a piece of paper and then crossed his index fingers together as he ran out of the room. Fred looked at the piece of paper left by the psychiatrist it was a prescription for antipsychotics.
“I’m glad we’ve left,” said Eagor as he read the prescription, “It must have been awfully hard for the author to keep on writing the doctor’s name”.
Fred looked at Eagor curiously while he was driving and then said: “I can’t believe he thinks I need antipsychotics, I’m not psychotic. SHUT UP BOB”, he yelled to him self and started twitching psychotically.
“I think he actually prescribed it to him self,” said Eagor ignoring Fred’s sudden outburst. “He didn’t write who the prescription was to, but he wrote a note just under the prescription saying: must stop hallucinating about the guy with the fur ball head”.
Fred and Eagor drove away from their first attempt at finding a psychiatrist to shrink their brain, but their second, third and fourth attempts weren’t any better, either were their fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth. So Fred was given no choice; he had to visit his brother.
“Dam no good psychiatrists,” mumbled Fred angrily, “make me see my brother, will you”; he said as he punched the glove box, “they’re all a bunch of quacks. I blame it on that dam Grover Cleveland what was wrong with Benjamin Harrison. Dam electorates, dam everybody. Dam you EAGOR! Fred yelled as he took his hands of the wheel to try to strangle Eagor but stopped as the car swerved of the road. That was when Fred decided to let Eagor drive. “Well it would be a bit confronting if a great scientist like yourself walked up to them and asked if they wanted to take place in a ground breaking experiment”, Eagor said as took the wheel, attempting to placate Fred’s ego.
“You’re right Eagor they’re probably just intimidated by my ingeniousness”, contemplated Fred narcissistically.
Unlike the rest of Fred and Eagor’s journeys up to this point, the drive to Fred’s brother clinic slash home wasn’t very eventful and when Eagor drove through the gates to the front entrance Fred said, “That wasn’t very eventful, I had to reread ‘Black Beauty’ to keep myself awake.”
“Well now at least you can see your brother”, said Eagor cheerfully as he got out of the car, it will be like a big family reunion: you, your brother and me.
“God, how I miss that long, tiresome drive,” Fred muttered as he also got out of the car. Fred dragged his feet as he walked through the door towards his brother sitting behind the receptionist table holding the string that opens the sliding doors.
“Hello, Irrit op Psy,” (Irritably optimistic psychiatrist), said Fred snidely, “why haven’t you changed your name yet.”
“Fro ob de, I haven’t seen you in ages”, exclaimed Irrit op Psy excitedly, “Did you get the caviar I sent you for Christmas.”
“Christmas is a pagans’ holiday”, replied Fred loudly, putting his jar containing his life’s work and two litres of coconut milk on a nearby table.
“How come you weren’t at mum’s funeral, I was the only one there, even the priest didn’t turn up and I was expecting you to do the eulogy; I had to make it up on the spot”, Irrit moaned optimistically, “But at least…”
“Enough irrelevant jibber jabber,” said Fred hurriedly, “we’d already wasted enough time with ‘hello’. Now, to cut to the chase; we’re both highly respected Neuro scientists me in the field of surgery and you with your Psychological mumbo jumbo, so if you help me with my life long ambition I will guarantee you another Nobel Prize”. Fred, of course, was lying; Fred wouldn’t let anybody get any acknowledgments towards the sin he called a scientific breakthrough, beside himself (not even Eagor). The only reason Fred obsessed over his insane idea was that although he had thought up the idea when he was fifteen (and gave it up two days later), the sight of his brother winning the Nobel Prize made him heartbroken with jealousy and the sight of how moderately proud his parents were, made him revisit the idea, thinking that if he pulled it off he would also be awarded a Nobel Prize and finally make his dieing mother and his comatosed father proud. So when his brother gladly agreed to shrink the brain, Fred was happy that he is now one step closer to achieving his goal.
“There you go, all shrunken up for you,” said Irrit cheerfully after his four hour brain shrinking, “Are you sure you don’t need anything else, perhaps some psychotherapy”.
“Well, I’ve got a brother that might,” murmured Fred as he snatched the brain fit for a rabbit, “I guess we’d better be off; plans to succeed in, rabbits to dissect”. Eagor and Irrit exchanged goodbyes as Fred got into the car and put the brain back into its jar. Soon after, Eagor got into the car’s passenger seat and Fred contentedly drove away, home.
“You do know that I’m going to have to kill him,” said Fred as he drove into his driveway, “I just can’t let him get away with taking credit for my beautiful ideas. I know that he helped us but I’ve spent too much of my own time to share acknowledgements. I think I’ll get the rabbit to do it.” Fred and Eagor both got out of the car. Eagor hadn’t said anything about Fred’s idea of killing his brother; he would talk to him later but first he had to do an operation. They walked up to their house (Eagor lives in the basement, he works for Fred as a butler in forced recognition) Fred opened the door and they walked into the lounge room which had been turned into a giant lab. There was an operating table in the middle and around the side there were desks holding test tubes containing red and green liquids, which were really just soft drinks. On one of these tables was where Fred put the jar containing the shrunken brain of the serial killer. Soon after Fred finished prepping the operation, Eagor came in holding the rabbit limp in his arms. He laid the rabbit on the operating table and then put on his surgical gloves, since Eagor always wears a lab coat he was ready for the operation.
“I really don’t want to have to cut open the poor little bunny wabbit”, said Eagor indignantly.
“You don’t have to, Eagor, it just would be greatly appreciated”, replied Fred holding up a gun.
“Well if it’s greatly appreciated then I’ll do it”, moaned Eagor picking up his scalpel. He thought about attacking Fred with it but he didn’t think it would be worth it, because unlike Fred, Eagor had morals. So he decided he had no choice, he would have to go on with the operation and remove the top of the rabbit’s head. So he started sawing. It took quite a while for the full removal, especially since Eagor fainted at the sight of blood. But eventually he succeeded, removing the top of the head and putting it down on a nearby table with the ears still sticking up, revealing the brain of the rabbit that had died soon after watching his life flash before his eyes.
“Good job Eagor”, said Fred looking at Eagor’s pale and queasy face, “Now all you have to do is remove the rabbit’s brain and replace it with the other one. Then we can lift it up for the De-electrolysis-Revivification, where we lift the operating table to the De-electrolysis-Revivification platform and then we’ll wait for the rabbit to be hit by lightning and then it should come back to life. It was an idea I got after reading ‘Frankenstein’”. Eagor had no idea how that would actually work, but he continued to follow orders and started pulling at the rabbit’s brain.
After a few seconds it made a sickly wet noise and came out. Eagor put the brain next to the ears and then took the other, animate brain out of its jar. Now was the time of reckoning, will the brain fit, will Fred’s brother live another night. Eagor put the eradicator’s brain up against the rabbit’s cranium and pushed. It went in easily. Eagor quickly put the top of the rabbit’s head back in place and then sewed it up. “Yes, exclaimed Fred animatedly, “My evil, I mean civil masterpiece is almost finished. We must now ready it for the De-electrolysis-Revivification. Quickly Eagor, raise the operating table”.
Eagor started to pull the rope; lifting the operating table to the top platform and as Fred watched this, his soul was filled with glee; his experiment was almost completed, he would win a Nobel Prize in the field of general excellence and then when his father comes out of his coma he would be so proud. So, as the operating table neared the top he decided to laugh manically: “Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha ha-ha-ha”.
What Fred should have realised is that the De-electrolysis-Revivification procedure is the hardest part of the whole operation and the most likely not to work, but as we all know the procedure does work and what you should also know is that when Fred’s brother shrunk the brain he left only the evil brain cells destroying all the goodness left in the brain making the rabbit one-hundred percent pure evil. “…ha-ha-ha-hah”, finished Fred as lightning hit the De-electrolysis-focuser point and hit the rabbit. The rabbit started to shake and then it started to grow. After growing about four feet in height, it stopped growing and its paws started to develop into more humanoid hands with opposable thumbs and longer fingers and longer arms. After the slight transformation was finished, it sat up, red eyes blazing (its eyes were already red before the transformation because it was a white rabbit with a natural white rabbit lack of melanin). “IT’S ALIVE!” shrieked Fred dramatically throwing up his hands, “It’s really alive. Eagor get the clothes for Sir McRabbit”.
“Your naming it Sir McRabbit, you haven’t even got it knighted yet”, said Eagor as he pulled the rope upwards making the operating table come back down. When the operating table reached the ground Fred went to greet the rabbit as Eagor, went to get it its clothes.
“Aaggghhhh,” screamed Fred as he looked at the long tooth extending through his finger. After two seconds of meeting Fred, the rabbit had had enough of him and decided to kill him. “It bit me. Baaad bunny rabbit”, preached Fred, as he pointed angrily at the rabbit using the finger that he had only just managed to pull off the rabbit’s tooth. The rabbit jumped six feet into the air and as he came down he sprang his feet out horizontally, hitting Fred in the chest. Fred fell down, clutching his chest in pain. Eagor didn’t really care about Fred, but he felt he should react; he had planned for this, dropping the rabbit’s clothes, he ran for his battle-axe. When he got it, he sprang into action swinging at the rabbit; at first the rabbit jumped right over the axe and as Eagor swung again, the rabbit caught the axe in his newly developed, muscular hands and pushed the axe towards Eagor’s neck, Sching.
Eagor fell to the ground, dead. Now the rabbit would go back for Fred. “You can’t do this to me, I created you”, yelled Fred as he got to his feet. “You should be my slave”. Fred ran for the door. He managed to get out side but he tripped over his ‘unwelcome mat’ and rolled down the hill that’s outside his house and landed next to an angry mob of people that had heard about Fred’s grave robbing and his experiment. The rabbit followed Fred out of his house but was afraid of all the fire that the members of the angry mob were holding, although the mob was even more scared of the rabbit than it was of them.
“Aaaggghhh”, screamed the people.
“With the brain of a madman and the body of a rabbit, it is pure evil”, said someone else and then the crowd started repeating: “evil, evil”. The remaining crowd crossed their index fingers as they started throwing burning rocks at the rabbit and at the house. By this time Fred had already disappeared into the forest never to be seen by the people of the town again. The rabbit was now even more afraid of the soaring flames so it hopped back into Fred’s house. There was fire all around the house; the people were going to burn it down. The petrified rabbit quickly hopped into a weird sheltered, metallic box to get away from the falling debris. Flash; the rabbit was in a time machine; he was quickly transported into the future, the year two thousand and eight.