Foggy visions of three squirrels licking each other clean are suddenly
interrupted by a loud pulsating BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. A dark brown paw comes
fiercely crashing down upon the electronic horror that’s causing the racket.
Sheets are tugged and wrapped around the lazy body as snoring shortly ensues.
"Good morning, Love," whispers a soft purring voice, "Time for breakfast." Tired
eyes open as a flopped-over ear is brushed out of the way, making visible a
voluptuous feline of the female persuasion. She stands beside the bed wearing
nothing but her more than perfect fur, a flawless onyx coat tinged in purple
hue. Her body itself is lithe, well fed, groomed and toned. Out of the black,
her eyes lay a heavy contrast to her fur. They are an icy blue with the cat-eye
slit. She leans in, dangling a single carrot BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. The same
brown paw slams down as breakfast vanishes. The lethargic ball of fur rolls to
the other side of the bed and BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
The little box of doom is knocked to the floor still sounding its battle cry. BEEP.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. Matching paws fumble hurriedly toward the floor,
groping for salvation. BEEP. BEEP. Click. The evil artifact is placed
back upon its throne, as the tired thing beneath the sheets sits slowly upright
and opens his deep cherry-wood eyes.
A reluctant sigh and a pair of boxers from the not-yet-putrid pile later, and
the bathroom mirror finds itself being gazed upon by a sleepy bunny-boy of
about nineteen. He's got that one ear perky / one ear floppy thing going on
that somehow makes him seem to just ooze of curiosity. Noticing a particularly
unpleasant morning taste, he squirts some toothpaste onto his brush and rinses
it under a bit of warm water. As he stares into the sink watching bits of
mint-green goop fall from his side-to-side brushing action, he thinks back on
how the dentist always told him to use an up-and-down motion. After a bit of
warm water gargling to ensure that no bits of minty-freshness will later
interfere in any morning juice, the sleepy Lepus kicks his shorts into the
corner and turns on a warm shower.
Half an hour later, a slightly more awake, greatly more dripping wet rabbit
emerges from the bathroom, wrapped in a purple cotton towel. He stands,
five-foot-eleven, staring at himself in the full-length mirror in the bedroom.
Glaring at his reflection, an eyebrow raises, a grimace forms, and then a nose
twitches happily as he giggles at himself. The pathetically wet figure pats
himself with the towel, drying his soaking fur, dark brown with tinges of
lighter shades and even some orange here and there. Once moderately dry, the
towel is wrapped back around his waist, and he props his feet under his desk
for some sit-ups. Two sets of thirty. No time for anything more this morning.
He’s only got fifteen minutes to get dressed and make it to his first college
Now he must make one of the most important decisions in any college career, what
to wear the first day. The first decision is made to wear a pair of long
dark-tan cargo pants. They are a little big on him, so the bottom few inches
are rolled up above his shoeless hind-paws. The pants have an excessive amount
of pockets on top of pockets, some of which seem to be specifically designed
for glow-sticks, but all of them are empty now. A chain leads from his side
belt loop to his back pocket, attached to a tattered Velcro wallet he’s had
since he was thirteen. The next article chosen is an earth-toned, collarless,
short-sleeved shirt with three buttons at the top. The shirt is striped in
thick lines of brown and dark blue with smaller lines of white, gray, and light
blue in-between. His little white and brown tail peeks out from under the back
of his shirt and has a bit of a wiggle to it as he approves the outfit in the
After a quick look around to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything, he grabs
his book bag and heads toward the front door. He runs down the apartment
building steps, around the corner, down more steps, around another corner, four
flights in all before suddenly stopping. He‘s forgotten cologne. Normally he
wouldn’t care. Normally he has no particular problem gracing the world with his
own natural eau de lapin smell, but today is the first day and first
impressions are everything. So around he turns, rushing back up each flight to
his room, where he chooses the one in the orange bottle, because he figures of
course that it best matches the color of his attire.