Rabbit Desecration, Pt. 1

Used Without apologies.

UNCLE WIGGILY GOES OFF

Uncle Wiggily Longears, the nice old gentleman rabbit, hopped out of bed one muggy Baltimore morning and started to go to the window, to see if any of the Charles Street whores were straggling home in the early dawn hours. Like most rabbits, Wiggily usually had a hard-on when he woke up but unlike most rabbits he still had a few dollars left from last night's crack-fueled guttercrawl. Perhaps Susie Littletail would hop by his window.

But, no sooner had he stepped on the floor, than he cried out:

"Oh! Ouch! Fuck me with a corncob! I just stepped on a goddamn glass stem! Sammie Littletail must have left it there! How careless of him! I'm gonna kick his crackhead ass jest as soon as I fuck his sister."

You see this was the same Uncle Wiggily, of whom I have told you in the Bedtime Books Scared Straight Series—the very same Uncle Wiggily. He was an "Uncle" to Sammie and Susie Littletail, the rabbit children, and also to Billie and Johnnie Bushytail, the squirrel boys, and to Alice and Lulu and Jimmie Wibblewobble, the duck children, but it was widely acknowledged that he was actually the father of most of these unfortunate urchins. Wiggily wasn't much interested in fatherhood, he just liked to fuck. He wasn't especially picky about species either- those squirrel boys had some mighty long ears, if you know what I mean.

Now I thought I would write something just about Uncle Wiggily himself, though of course I'll tell you what all his nephews and nieces did, too. It's pretty sordid stuff, so I think you will enjoy it.

Well, when Uncle Wiggily felt that sharp pain, he stood still for a moment, and wondered what could have happened.

"Yes, I'm almost sure it was a stem," he said. "Maybe there's a hit left in it."

So Uncle Wiggily looked on the floor, but there was no stem there, only some empty zip-loc jewelry baggies and a drained bottle of Thunderbird he and Sammie Littletail had been bubbling back the night before.

"Oh, I know what it was; it must have been my jones that gave me the pain!" said the old gentleman rabbit as he looked for his red, white and blue crutch, striped like a barber pole. He found it under the bed, and then he managed to limp to the window. Surely enough, the jones was kicking in. Uncle wiggled.
Wiggily got his name from the way he shivered when the jones made the invisible spiders crawl all over his mangy body, and the spiders were starting to breed. Like rabbits.

"I'll certainly have to do something about this jones," said Uncle Wiggily as he inspected the empty baggies for any overlooked crumbs. This was the third time he had done this in the last ten minutes and there still weren't any rocks in the tiny square baglets.

"I guess I'll see Dr. Possum", he said.

So Wiggily walked down to the 'outgoing calls only' pay phone on the corner, Dr. Possum was telephoned for, and he came to see Uncle Wiggily.

"Yo. Knew you'd call!" exclaimed the dealer, looking very tired, but alert with greed. "You have the jones very bad, Mr. Longears."

"Why, I knew that before you came," said the old gentleman rabbit, blinking his eyes. "What I want is a goddamn eightball."

So Wiggily got his eightball from Possum and everyone lived happily ever after all day.

The next morning it started all over again.