Our little stuffed bunny buddy was last seen in an alley behind the police station with zombie guts in his eye, dithering over whether to get it out OUT OUT or just nut up and head on in to the precinct. Which raises two questions:
- First, who among us has not been, at some point in our fragile human lives, staggering around in an alley behind the police station in some sort of distress over goo in our eyes?
- And second, does a stuffed bunny have nuts with which to nut up? Since he was on a date and hoping to score, I assume so.
After due process and careful deliberation, we in our infinite wisdom have gone the velveteen nut route, screwed up our courage, and bolted for the hard, safe arms of the local constabulary without washing our eyes first. Hopefully our tears of joy when Daddy saves us will wash out the zombie goo sufficiently:
Success! As far as I can tell we have not yet turned into a zombie. Phew! But now, what to do, what to do? I kind of like Clampy Pete, mostly for his name and his no-nonsense attitude. I bet he's really just a huggable ol' bear. Wearing a crab costume. Wait, this just got weird.
Anyway, look, the point is, what do you want to do? Shall we leap upon the stuffed crab's desk and lay on the oratory, or skulk down to the safety of a cell where we can continue our plans? Which, frankly, seem to be largely "Run away". But still, that kind of intellectual heavy lifting needs silence.
So what'll it be, Intrepid Explorers of the Zombocalypse?
As we are so obviously master of the spoken word I believe we should speak out. If we do not, what are our implied needlepoint lips for?
That, and who says we’d be safe inside a jail cell? Maybe that “drunk” sleeping it off over in the corner is really just a zombie who hasn’t fully zombed yet. And what if, after all is said and done, there’s no one left who knows we’re in the cell, or could let us out if they did. We’d be trapped! TRAPPED, I tells ya. Not good either way.
Well, I took a glance ahead at the two options, trying to figure out which one is more funny. Both have their charm. But in this case, I say the bigger laughs (and a good dose of irony) lies in punching old Clampy Pete in the snout and trying to land ourselves a jail cell.
I keep forgetting we’re a stuffed bunny since it hasn’t been a major factor yet. So, the stuffed crab police chief took me by surprise.
Much as beating the shell out of Clampy Pete sounds cathartic, getting locked up somewhere we can’t escape from sounds like a bad idea. I vote for diplomacy. (Frankly, I suspect that’ll get us locked up anyway.)
Since running away is our thing, and we can’t run away inside a jail cell, I think we should avoid the jail cell. And Kelex is right; if something bad happens (not that that’s likely, right?) and nobody knows we’re there…how long would it take a stuffed bunny to starve to death?
I voted to pontificate. It will either work or get us tossed in a cell anyway. And I can’t help but think there’s not a jail cell on Earth that we can’t squeeze our squishably plush carcass through the bars. Of. If need be.
By the way, anybody know any good recipes for stuffed crab?
I totally imagined a red crab smoking a cigar after his dialogue. I’m so glad Barnes and Noble is only 7 minutes from here.
Anyway, I vote we make a meal of some stuffed crab! Oh, crud, that’s just foam…