Understandable.
There is nothing on earth more despicable than the bunny. Every faint emotion that shines through its pitch-black soul marks destruction and ruin; every disgusting twitch of joy from its not-at-all adorable tail heralds the collapse of a small lithium mine, and every witness to a rare bunny’s smile sees reflected their own gravestone’s epitaph. Small towns would run amok when a bunny’s cage was found deserted; resigned villagers would hang bunny hides to symbolize their foretold demise; and scarce a cat’s whimper was not filtered through a vagabond bunny’s great and terrible ears. But no longer are bunnies reviled before the face of decency; no longer are their soft footsteps to be brought before mayoral office as proof of mismanagement, for now, in this time of utter lawlessness and departure from our basest and most fundamental instincts, their presence is honored not with 8-gauge permanent tranquilizer but with “affection”, “nuzzles”, “bops”. Why? The bunny is not at all adorable. People may think otherwise, possibly because of its cute lil’ head, fluffy lil’ paws, adorbs lil’ nose, and other such nonsensical statements, but this is incorrect. Every morsel of humanity within you ought to revolt at the thought! A bunny? Cute? Never. But from whence, you may ask, does this hatred arise?
I was but a young, naive insurance advisor when I first encountered a bunny. I was lying unsuspecting atop my office desk, exhausted from my day of hard sitting, when that thing of hatred was carried in. Looking back, doubtless some menial fiend had lured the figure before my office door. Now in those days I did not yet dip the floorboards in honey to entrap interloping lagomorphs, nor had I a carefully trained ear to detect the stray pattering of a wayward lepine; so I was left defenseless when my despicable colleague (a hateful figure who earned more than I, worked more than I, and was friendlier to myself than I) walked in with a steel cage housing a disgusting, writhing little thing. They asked that I would take care of the “bunny” for the quarter-turn of a turnstile while they prostrated before our manager (an overseer wretched in his bunnyish likeness) for another of their “promotional meetings” that “successful” people so enjoy. No sooner had my colleague left than the evil thing wriggled through the bars of the cage and sat very calmly and respectfully. I fed it a carrot because it looked so professional, as if “reward” or “recompense” were ideoforms present in the bunny’s foul mind. Five weeks later, my dog died of cancer. Oh, the bunny’s dread luck is pernicious indeed, and since that day, every encounter with another of its indescribably describable species has been laden with misfortune. For instance, my revenge plot against the bunny that had committed the original sin ended only in my termination from my short-sighted post. Being free to pursue the inimical species that had so robbed me of my joys, I first attempted to seize control of their menageries of reproduction, and was on the cusp of penetrating the defenses of those who would shelter this intolerable creature when I was jailed and brought before the courts for trespassing. I argued, very persuasively, that the pursuit of justice does not concern itself with property rights. The judge argued, very persuasively, that I was going to jail for six months. Having been soundly defeated in the arena of words and forced to accept a plea deal, I labored twelve and a quarter months under the lashes of my wellness officer (who incidentally had very large, bunny-like ears) before I was freed. My pitiable tale here ends.
As a fellow researcher in the application of the human concept of “pain” to the eldritch concept of “bunny”, surely you seek the most exacting, the most punitive measures against the ill-omened beast. Well, as far as the application of pain goes, it is startlingly limited when taken to measure against methods of psychological distress. There is a common phrase, “carrot carrot mule stick carrot stick stick mule mule stick”, which beautifully expresses the ways in which one may incentivize a lowly beast: the stick, or the carrot. But by combining these two concepts using pure creativity and hot glue, we can create the ingeniously named carrot-on-a-stick. Tied to a bunny’s disgustingly soft head, this device forces the bunny, a naturally jumpish and excitable creature, to chase after a snack that is ironically spurred away by its movements. Similar to the mythological Sisyphus, but with the bunny in the place of the boulder, and its pusher is its hind legs, and its reward is not freedom from stone-pushing, but instead it is, well, the bunny’s circling, getting nothing, but also exercising, so I suppose it is getting…lower body strength instead? I do not think this analogy is entirely appropriate. But the bunny is certainly getting very tired. And it may have to sleep soon. Another victory for the tireless enemies of the fallibly tired bunny. And now consider, how sufficiently can the bunny be reduced to fearsome quiverings when forced upon a most inconvenient circumstance. Fear of change is a fundamental and instinctive aversion. Most adamantly, for instance, shall a passerby refuse to jump from a moving aeroplane, even if such leaps are assuredly safe. The bunny, being a land mammal, has never been to the ocean. Fathomless, impenetrable, full of unknown terrors and strange bunny-adjacent crabs, how better to subject the odious bunny to incipient fear? So, if we strap the repugnant creature to a “board,” and allow it to float in “water”, it can be sufficiently said to be “water bored”. But now attach a wave generator, and see if the bunny will, as the human surfer profession implies, pull off “gnarly stunts” or “thrash up the waves all wicked-ups”. No! The bunny is incapable, by nature, of being “too cool for school”, and its incompetence in the highly practical art of surfing will render its peerage disappointed at its boresome display of “mad skillz”. And having so outmaneuvered the hellacious heather-muncher, your moral duty to the general populace has been fulfilled; the bunny humiliated; and all set right with the world.
The duties of those who seek the immolation of bunnykind rise endlessly upon the horizon; it is a holy, sacrificial service to the earth and its people. Let your hands be guided by righteous disgust; waylay the bunny with all manner of contrivance to effect its debilitation, whether by deceit or honest warfare. Though surely never shall this horrid, nasty, wicked, sinful little creature ever perish from this earth, may your crusade against their kind be ever blessed with good fortune.
