"She Fucks Like Me"

11:30pm: Mushrooms went missing. Mushing. They went Shrooming.
I'm thinking of Watership Down, again. My favorite. Is that a cliche? We read it when she was in high school, she would come home and read the chapters to me after they read them in school and I'd make her read more of them than they did in school and re-read the ones before and start all over from the beginning and rush through the gassing parts...

Something happened on the train, I was thinking of Watership Down. I wanted to go there, and I was stuffed in the purse, of course. Such unpleasantness in the terminal, the shouting and bickering, I could feel her heart beating faster again and of course the panic set in. I thought of Hazel and El-ahrairah and the others in the warren, I wish I could burst forth from my purse and join the fight, help them find a new home, and me a new home. But there is nothing out there for me, my world is this purse... this purse... and this bag in the purse...

Did the mushrooms go missing? It's hard to say... I know I didn't miss them HA AH AH HAHAHAHA.... wonderful. :) I tried to raise some concern, contemplate the punishment I knew was to come, but I wanted them to go away, take the mushrooms and the pot and the liquor away for JUST ONE DAY, so she would be real and look at me with real eyes when she looked at me and when she held me she would hold me like a person and not a sop to the endless dripping of her need for comfort and when she layed down it would be with just me and the pillow and soft blankets, and no sobbing and no other guys and nothing but warm and happy, the two of us in our new rabbit holes away from the farmers and the blight and the gas... and who cares about the punishment, I wasn't punished when other things went missing like doll's heads and spare change, so why with the mushrooms...

....

..


I got six hours in the fridge.

12:58am: Dateline: New York (III)
We went to a juice bar in the village. I travelled inside her purple velour purse. This is my least favorite purse: velour traps smells.

A strange man with a scent stronger than the purse looked at her, then at me, then back to her, and said, "Heyyyyyyyyyyy.... nice pussy!!!"

There was an awkward silence before she laughed.

Next thing you know, they're fucking. During one cuddly interlude she's telling him she'd do anything for him, and he says, "I've always wanted a rabbit's foot."

She would never let harm befall me. She negotiated a compromise whereby she shaved my ears and gave him the trimmings in a porcelain motel coffee mug. It was funny at first, even to me, but without the damping effects of the fur, well, just imagine god cranked the treble on the universe to "max." My life... defined by pain.

Later that night, I ate a scrap of lettuce that resembled her bust line and made poops that resembled tears.

6:35pm: Dateline: New York (II)
This city was built on the sweat and lives of immigrants, who travelled here hoping to carve a better life for themselves. My lady and I just came for the fucking.

For my insolence on the plane, I was sentenced to four hours in "the maw" -- imprisoned on her lap, my face nuzzled in her femininity. The keyclacks from above took on the sound of war drums as I smelled the soft, hot, fetid wind from her fork. Up close like that, I can hear the insane screams of those trapped inside, I can see their twisted faces and smell their burning hair. I lost control several times. When the ordeal was over, she kissed me and I said I was sorry for making her do that.

The hotel room is standard midamerican fare, banal and soulless and full of things to hump. I ejaculated on the shower curtain. It was a rebellious impulse and one I immediately regretted. She understood and the punishment was mild this time, I was made to travel in a stroller all the next day.

That night, we made frenzied love and she told me I'm the only one who understands.

3:45pm: Dateline: New York
The whirlwind tour continues. Drunkenly careening around the Phoenix airport, watching in horror as she inevitably passed out on the flight to Detroit, head in the lap of the businessman next to her, drooling on his crotch. I'm sure he considered pushing her back upright, but he was being POLITE. Wandering endlessly throught the Detroit airport (oops here come the waterworks, I would never have suspected...) until the furry fat man finally found us. To thank him for the hysterics, I peed on him. Less satisfying that I hoped.

What a couple of days that was. So depressing, her constant whining about his boner. His constant wheezing. I know I've said it thousands of times, but godDAMN these giant ears. Must I endure every pathetic fumbling?

I guess enough has been posted about the Detroit fiasco by others, so now here we are. She's couch-surfing, which means every two days I get a new daddy. So, it's just like home. Only now, half the day is spent in the basket of that folding bike, whizzing by cabs and busses who I'm quite sure could care less if there is one less rabbit in the world. Some days, I feel the same way. All of these apartments are tiny. I miss Oregon. One piece of good news is that she forgot to bring all the bunny outfits, so most of the time I'm just wearing my fur. Which is dyed pink right now. :(

There are no bunny icons on LJ. Of course.