I.... killed the wabbit.
And I still feel guilty. Especially now, the day before Easter.
With that Oh-so-Cute Cadbury Clucking Bunny all over TV.
Then again, who eats those disgusting creme eggs, anyway? If ever there was a more foul candy invented...
but I digress.
It happened one beautiful sunny day last summer on a mountain country road as I was with my girls in upstate New York, singing along with the radio, heading to the lake for a swim, la dee da dee da.
One large bunny. Cute. Brown. Furry. Meets one small performance tire. One big ole bump as my car ran over it. He ran out in front. Maybe he had had a bad day. Who knows?
"What was THAT, Mom?"
I looked back in the rear view mirror.
"Oh.... ohhhhh. Nothing?" Denial was my friend.
Oh, Yeah. He was gone. Gone, Bunny, Gone. Extremely gone. Mr. Bill gone.
Thus my hashtag #Sueannethebunnyslayer was born on Twitter.
I may not be able to do a thing with vampires. But, by golly, don't put me in front of a bunny.
Sorry, Baby Daddy Bunny.