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Somewhere in the not too distant future, an unexpected figure emerges from the dark peripheries of desire into the dreary  light of day. Not a God like Messiah but an androgynous avenger of the righteous, a furry defender of the under class, and an all around, well adjusted pervert. Someone to spare us the tyranny of this Empire gone Mad! And that, my friends, is where my story begins.

 

 I'm patiently waiting outside a room in an undisclosed location where a clandestine meeting  is being held amongst members of an elite group who's identities shall remain, for now, unknown. After many hours of secret deliberations, their covert leader Doctor Condoleezza appears in the hall and whispers in my ear, "It's all been decided. You MUST kill the President." An explosion  of TRUE patriotism surging though my groin, I assess the task that lay ahead. A dangerous game. A swift but decisive blow. Chop! Chop! HOOPLA!

With our wretched chief of staff safely out of the way. It was off to the Pentagon and Off with their heads... Thus my lust for the enemies of life will breed the flesh anew. And so, our national secretary of death, now meets his own... Ahimsa... A tingling glow now caresses my entire body showering me in the dew of a job well done. Yet my destiny remained to be fulfilled. The house must be cleansed.

Aroused by my accomplishments, I foolishly let down my guard, allowing myself to be captured by over a dozen FBI goons. They transported me hooded and in shackles to the bowels of their evil compound in Guantanamo, where I was mercilessly beaten and unlawfully interrogated by these born again mobsters for endless days that seemed like months. It looked like your sweet Bunny was a goner. Hope was running out.

Barely surviving on a combination of wits, will, and bodily fluids, I desperately managed a daring escape from their burning inferno during prayer service only to discover that while in my drug induced delirious confinement, I'd somehow become impregnated with U.S. Attorney General Ashcroft's devil child... A fate, perhaps worse than Death. Yes, that's right. Life as a single mother amongst the demigods and hypocrites. Surely, this would mark the end of any chance at career advancement and financial independence.

Yet, somehow through some twisted piece of Karma, I discovered while anally birthing the Devil Child, itself, that I, Bunny, now possessed the super mammalian powers to control men's bowels telepathically. Ha! Ha! The Washington beltway was soon consumed in a massive writhing constipated agony...So what's new about that? Does this colonic constriction qualify as a Weapon of Mass Destruction? You'll just have to ask Vice man Dick. That is, if you can find him. Ha! Ha! I'm starting to feel like myself again.

The stench from the Empire's capitol would soon spread across the globe. London, Beijing, Paris, Baghdad, Moscow, Tokyo, Berlin, Nairobi, Buenos Aries. Who or What is Bunny? Is this just another conspiracy by the Empire to distract us from our misery. As news reached the territories, the signs of dissent could be seen decorating the wall of the slum. Symbols of the new World order beginning  to topple. Could all this be premature? Will the world be thrown into chaos? Could this be the start of a new Dark Ages?  

How would I know. After all I'm just a Bunny, remember? Until just recently, my primary job in this life was making other bunnies. Which is not a bad assignment for a horney fuzzy wanker, like me. Back then, I didn't know a wolf from a Wolfowitz. But things are different now. I'm a he/she bad ass guerilla ninja anarchist bunny wad. So don't even think about it.

Besides, there's still a lot of unfinished business out there. Karl Rove, the puppet master, for one. Then Newt Gingrich, Richard Perle, Antonin Scalia, William Kristol,  John Poindexter, Tom Delay, Bill Frist, Clarence Thomas, Elliot Abrams, R. James Woolsey, Rupert Murdoch, Richard Armitage, just to name a small fraction of the Evil doers. My cheeks are flush, my groin is aflame, and my weapon is steadfast and poised. Oh Mistress of the Otherside, thrill me with blood lust and  thoughts of retribution and release. 

The fate of all power draws near. The Empire, has gorged itself on the global blood of innocents and now excretes the excess beyond it's capacity. A flood that even my beloved Princess might fail to ebb until it's too late. Armageddon? Will they bring on the nukes? Is carnage it's own reward. Does all shit smell the same? I might die finding out and laughing too. For the job at hand is never done. So many pricks unsucked. So many cunts wanting...

If all proves naught, perhaps I can take refuge in Celebrity, line my nest with commercial endorsements and pursue a life of home schooling with my Devil progeny. As a fervent lover of nature, I could establish ties amongst the Greens, study Classics, and finally learn to play my ukulele. Ah! To dream...

To be continued...

Our Story resumes with a useful bit of intelligence provided by unsavory turncoats, regarding the where abouts of the evil tyrant, "Pissy Dick" Cheney. Months of dutiful searching eventually found him bearded and scabrous in a dirty subterranean concrete bunkerdeep in the woods of his, supposed, home state of Wyoming. Even in destitute despair, he remained defiant about his involvement in greedy oil deals and refused to answer questions about the location of his Weapons of Mass Destruction. 

After some strategically applied debriefing in one of our specially designed interrogation glory holes, I expect we will extract the information we need to convict this despot of crimes against humanity. Then it's "Off with his HEAD!" Least you think our furtive minds are devoted exclusively to the promotion of violence against the state. Feast your eyes on the latest playful creation by our artisan staff. An action figure effigy of me. (pictured to your right.) Suitable for both the discerning collector and casual fan, alike.

Let's cut to the chase... Who has time for public tribunals? Where does the egalitarian conceit fit with the clandestine? The sectarians must be suppressed until order can be restored. But order from where? I am merely a covert operative disguised as a global super star. I must search for answers amongst  the mass of spineless consumers cueing up for sensual groin drain at the megastore. Does Micheal Eisner speak to me from deep inside my anus? Krispy Kreme Hot Pocket Deep Dishing Eminem. More fiber=Moral fiber.

The new year has arrived and the ogres still rule the roost, while angry flaccid vessels await fulfillment from above. Does lumpen describe these cretins? Nothing that an enrollment in a re-education camp wouldn't cure. Sound like Pol Pot? More like pot bellied pols. If an army lives on it's stomach then this class survives on the fat of it's arse. Please. No more monuments to the dead. The cost of living has just gone up and all the saviors must die and be reborn as mortals once again to strip these fools of their noxious piety. Amen.

We need to enlist your help! The view from Toontown just gets darker every day. A brief list of types that need to be identified. There's "Mary Jane Everybody", media slut, egotistical tool of the status quo, whore," Junior Politico", power hungry hero of the privileged few, elected with cash and for cash, "Havgood Monymangler", CEO of God is rich, poor people are the Devil Inc. Global bandit, and "Bunny", Exemplar of things Anal and Anarchist, a real stinkin' dick lickin' bottom feeder. One sick fucking Daisy Chain, don't cha think? What's next?

Episode three. The untimely death of the demon child, my ill begotten son, heir to the throne of the lair , and preternatural embodiment of Good and Evil. Brutally murdered at the hands of his fathers minions. "Let no child be left behind," said the King of the White Devils. But the last word will be mine. For no amount of blood or sweat or semen, will save the Empire from it's mighty fall. Your nukes are naught, for I represent nature itself. So now you've gone and really pissed me off. May your God have mercy upon you for I will not. Beware! The agent of your demise comes wrapped in furs.

Suck yourself off! Swallow deep! Indulge in the sustenance of your own bodily fluids. Drench yourself in the menstrual life blood. Then piss your pants. But when all is said and done, You must vomit the whole mess in the face of authority. Drown them in second hand bile. For their bestial Empire makes us sick.  Fashion a virus of passion and peace and fist it up the backside of the state of this union.  Eat the groin flesh of the military whores and their corporate pimps, then toss what's left to the maggots and sharks.

The puppet judiciary is DEAD! Perished in an ultimate trial by fire and forced to finish their twisted lives in a purgatory of their own hypocritical morality. Be your own judge! Abort the government. Molest a priest. Vote for yourself. Embezzle a charity. Rob a politician. Kill your television. Don't hug trees, copulate with them! Destroy all the Gods and fuck in their houses of worship. Take away their weapons of mass destruction. Keep your ass clean. Be naked whenever possible. Pray to your FAT ass, your thunder thighs, your sagging tits, and limp dicks...

And by all means, DANCE! DANCE! DANCE! The Hell with 'Burning Man.' I say, 'Let's BURN the MAN.' Don't hijack the planes, hijack, 'the plan.' Uh oh! There I go again. Losing track of the story. After all, this is supposed to be a fantasy narrative designed to distract the marginal from our impending demise. Must of lost my head. So, where were we? Clandestine meetings of double operatives within the Empire, a bunny with super powers assassinating everyone, dead presidents everywhere, illegitimate demon babies, and shit everywhere. Let's pick up from there...

"Bunny Tales" is an on-going psycho- sexual, politically vengeful bit of agitational propaganda made to help fill the vast periods of time between my legitimate graphics and  the writing gigs that never really were. Hence, the separate cyber-ghetto I've created for it in a  phony effort to protect my commercial reputation. The Bunny character was first hatched back in 1998 for reasons I'd rather not disclose. See my main site at jcgarrettart.com for further details. As usual, lemeno what you think... garrettart@comcast.net

Images and text are copyright 2003 If your at all interested, please contact me. I'm happy to share.