Billy the Bunny by Walter Bjorkman

Billy the Bunny never caught a break. It was a tough kindle of rabbits to be brought up in, especially as the last, and runt, of the litter. The eldest, Peter, well none that followed reached his level of belovedness, so falling short of him was no shame. But then to be preceded in rapid succession by Thumper, Bugs & Roger, well Billy just never had a chance. Not that rabbit parents did much tendering anyway, or for very long — they were off fucking like hippies after a month or so. But in the eyes of the public, Billy the Bunny was off the radar. He resorted to taking a gig as a model for the cheapest, hollowed-out stale chocolate Easter bunnies found in last-minute CVS gift baskets, but that paid only for services, no royalties, and the association with such a travesty was too much to bear. So that leads us to the tragic 1974 Halloween night that found Billy crossing Brooklyn Bridge on his way to Bug’s toney Brooklyn Heights party, carrying plastic leaves of grass and muttering something about all along the watchtower, and joining the Jehovah’s Witness protection program. He was promptly arrested for public sanity, taken to Bellevue, and wound up in a ward with the cast from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, where his scenes were left on the cutting room floor. Bob Dylan was his only visitor, but wouldn’t give him a smoke. His current whereabouts are unknown, but no one cares.

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