The Short Jeremiad of Ms. Gunny Bunny
Oct 21, 2022
The Short Jeremiad of Ms. Gunny Bunny
It was the worst of times.
Something had to give. Nothing seemed to be working for me. I had recently moved across town with my girlfriend of 2 years. I really thought she was the one. She left me for someone else two weeks after we moved. I didn’t like my job, my apartment was too expensive. It was a very lonely place, and it was always a mess since I worked too often. My work life had really kept me from building any new friendships since moving here. My only company was my television, which I kept on all the time so I wouldn’t feel like I was by myself.
The Sunday market on Main Street was perhaps my only nice break from the doldrums. The town council had made this a weekly event years ago, and the community really enjoyed it. So did I. The streets were closed, vendors were selling everything from crafts to fresh vegetables, to pet clothing. The sounds of local musicians sweetened the atmosphere.
One particular morning I was standing on the street and noticed a shiny object. The reflection made me wince. The street sweepers that came through the night before must have inadvertently scraped the layer of tar off an old coin and polished it. Curious as to the age of this coin, I bent down and picked it out of the asphalt.
The coin was so peculiar. It wasn’t like any other metal I had seen before. It was the size of a penny, but instead of a copper color, it was an iridescent violet. The top side that caught my eye had no markings. I flipped the coin over and on it was a stylized rabbit standing on two legs wearing a suit of armor. “Excuse me, sir. Can I get by you? I’d like to see these mugs.” I looked up and realized I was blocking the entrance of a potter’s booth. I shoved the odd coin in my pocket and went about my morning.
I got home from the market and my attention was quickly taken by the tv I had left on. The morning news was on and the reporter was interviewing the mother of the city’s most recent murder victim. The city had reached a boiling point last year. Years of corruption and lack of opportunities had caused suffering unlike anything I could remember. It was like the whole metro area was sharing my misery. I switched channels. It was a rerun of the mixed martial arts fights that were live last night.
I put my groceries away and reached in my pockets to remove my wallet and coins. That’s when I remembered that odd purple coin I picked out of the street.
The rabbit side of the coin was quite dirty. I took a cloth from the kitchen counter and gave the coin a light polish. The coin suddenly got extremely hot. I dropped the coin on the counter and was shocked as to what was standing there. There, on top of the coin, was a small bunny rabbit. But not an anatomically correct rabbit.
This bunny was a stuffed animal. It was blue, and had specks of pink fur as well as a fluffy pink cottony tail. It was also carrying a machine gun. It turned right toward me and when I leaned in to get a closer look I realized this was a female blue bunny with little curvy hips and furry pink cleavage pressed behind her weapon. She turned her head upward at me, and brusquely asked me to make three wishes. I was too surprised to say anything. She ran across the counter, and jumped right out of my kitchen window.
The next day she visited me at work. She was bigger now. She asked me to make three wishes again.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I am Ms. Gunny Bunny.” she replied.
“What do you…”
Machine gun fire from her little gun stopped me. It made a “pew, pew, pew” sound like a child imitating a gun. But when little bits of plaster fell from the ceiling onto my desk, I realized she was not playing around.
“I’m not sure…”
Ms. Gunny Bunny stormed out.
A week later, she visited me at home, now as tall as me, and asked me to make three wishes. I asked what happens after I make those wishes. She got mad and fired again at my ceiling. Then she left again.
I had moved to this area to avoid some of the things that were plaguing the rest of the metro area , but since Ms. Gunny Bunny’s arrival, everything seemed to be going downhill. The whole town was in disarray. People open fought and there was a sharp rise in violent crime. There were women on the street wearing the most provocative clothing, and everyone seemed to be suddenly secretive.
A week later, a ten foot tall Ms. Bunny Gunny popped her head in my bedroom window.
“What is going on around here!” I exclaimed.
“Your neighbors are giving in to the desire that I have given them. I am the goddess of sex and violence. You released me from my prison. For releasing me, you can have three wishes.”
“What happens when I finish those wishes?”
She growled and turned around to leave.
“Wait! For my first wish I want you to always and forever answer every one of my questions truthfully.”
“That’s it? Now my wish is your…”
“I am not your genie!” she screamed.
“Fine. What happens after I make my third wish?”
“You lose the power to send me back to where I came from.”
“Ok, then that’s it for now.” I said.
Once again, Ms. Gunny Bunny stormed off.
On subsequent meetings I got to learn a lot about Ms. Gunny Bunny from questions I asked, and she had to answer truthfully. Eventually I made a second request.
“For my second wish I want everyone who loves me, and everyone who I love, to be completely immune to your powers.”
“Which do you want?” she demanded.
"What do you mean?"
“Those who love you, or those that you love? Each is its own wish.”
“Oh… um… those … those who love me.”
“Interesting decision. Ok.”
That’s it? I asked.
“Poof.” she responded sarcastically.
“I was hoping for something bigger, but thanks.”
Ms. Gunny Bunny grit her teeth and squinted her eyes, then continued, “There’s one thing I can’t do with wish number two. I can’t make anyone love you. You have to earn that.”
Ms. Gunny Bunny abruptly turned and ran off as she usually did when she was tired of our conversations.
I was often curious as to where Ms. Gunny Bunny ran off to after each of our conversations, but she’s fast, and too be honest, I was a bit freaked out by the whole thing. I was really just hoping it was all a bad dream. But now Ms. Gunny Bunny was almost twenty feet tall and she lumbered down the road like a bloated monster. That evening I followed her.
She ran through the woods on the back end of my neighborhood. I followed about 100 feet behind her. She was easy to track as she trampled everything in her path. Eventually, she exited the woods at a huge, dimly lit lot with a massive concrete structure planted in the middle. I saw her walk around the side of the building past some dumpsters, and she squished her giant frame through the loading dock doors. When I felt she was completely inside, I follow her in. I heard loud music when I entered and I followed the noise down a hallway. I came to the end of a long corridor and entered a door with a sign marked “Sanctuary.”
Inside was an enormous religious sanctuary. There were many rows of pews and a stage at the end with a backdrop of ornate stained glass windows. Ms. Gunny Bunny was standing front and center like a living idol on its altar. She was smoking a cigar, holding her machine gun, while looking at the people in the pews. The sanctuary was filled with all sorts of people. Some were staring back, some were looking around in wonder. A couple in the pew right in front of me was having sex. The side walls were covered from top to bottom, and end to end, with large video screens. Each one was playing something different. Several were showing boxers and fighters in rings and cages mercilessly beating each other. There were several law enforcement reality shows with officers In hot pursuit or pinning fugitives to the ground. Some of the screens showed pornography. One screen had the most recent medieval dragon dynasty episode, and it was showing the rape scene over and over. Every screen had speakers on the sides, and each was blaring simultaneously. There were no lights on the ceiling. Between the light from the stained glass windows and the video screens, the sanctuary was aglow like a strobe light lit nightclub. Ms. Gunny Bunny was swaying her hips to the chaotic sights and sounds, when we made eye contact. A puff of cigar smoke came out of her mouth and she continued to peruse the room. She took another look at me as gave me an Elvis styled pelvis thrust. Between her legs was an obscene undulating camel toe and a tuft of pink fury poking out of her blue pelt. I couldn’t take any more. I ran out and hurried back home trying to forget what I saw that night.
The next day I was miserable. I hated my life. I was going insane in a world with a diabolical sexual stuffed rabbit. Even without that monster, everything was broken. And I deserved it.
I was at home the next night when Ms. Gunny Bunny returned. She poked her head in my bedroom window.
“Did you like what you saw?”
“That happened?” (uncomfortable pause) “No.” I replied.
“I’m sorry. Everyone else seems to enjoy it.”
“I would like to make my third wish.”
“Ha!” she exclaimed. “And then you will never be able to send me back! Hmmm… This must be important.” She smiled in a way I hadn’t seen before.
“Yes. For my third wish I want to love myself.”
“Yes.” I replied.
Ms. Gunny Bunny screamed.
“I can’t! Remember, I can’t make anyone love you! It was a stipulation in your last wish.”
Ms. Bunny Gunny screamed again and shot her machine gun at the ceiling. Debris fell and hit my head.
“You’ll have to find another way to love yourself, you pitiful twerp!”
Ms. Gunny Bunny took a couple steps away, turned towards me and yelled, “Suck it up, buttercup!” and ran off in her usual direction.
She was right though. I had to do this on my own. Ms. Gunny Bunny did something that night she probably never expected to do. She inspired me to get better. For the first time in my life, I actually believed that I didn’t deserve to feel the way I did, and that I deserved to love myself, even if part of the reason for it was to spite Ms. Gunny Bunny.
On Sunday, I went to the local market. I hadn’t been in a few weeks. I had been getting all of my groceries at the supermarket lately and hadn’t felt the need. But today I needed to do something I enjoyed, just for myself, even if I didn’t buy anything. I went into one of the local pottery booths. Actually, it was the one I inadvertently blocked a few weeks back, lost in my own world, looking at a purple coin. I held all of the potter’s mugs in my hand. There was one with a brilliant glaze, whose curves and ripples reminded me of rock climbing at summer camp when I was a kid.
“I’ll take this one.”
As I paid for it, I say to myself that I deserved this one.
Ms. Gunny Bunny returned to my bedroom window that night. Strangely she was a bit shorter than the last time I saw her. She asked if I had a third wish for her, something she could actually fulfill. I told her that I was taking care of myself just fine. She stormed off in a huff.
She came by each night that week, each time a bit shorter than the night before, asking if I could make that third wish.
On Friday, she was barely tall enough for her head to reach into my bedroom window. I slammed the window shut in front of her face and yelled through the glass, “Suck it up, buttercup!”
Each weekend I kept going out and doing things for myself. I started going to local happy hours at the downtown pubs, I went on hikes in the nearby state parks, I went to religious services, art shows, artist talks, wine tastings, and poetry readings. I even met a woman at the Sunday market and arranged my first date in as long as I could remember.
At the same time, Ms. Gunny Bunny showed up more frequently, but each time smaller. She eventually started breaking into my home and we had our remaining conversations on my kitchen counter where our first conversation began.
One night Ms. Gunny Bunny was on my kitchen counter, and she was so small I could hardly hear her. She shot her gun at my ceiling and bits of white dust fell on my counter. I had enough. I put a glass over her. I heard “pew, pew, pew” over and over but it had no effect on me. My only thought was how I rid this little beast from my presence. The next morning I went back into the kitchen and looked at her under the glass. She was tiny, but feisty as ever. I found an old spice jar and emptied it. I slid the glass that imprisoned Ms. Gunny Bunny to the edge of the counter and dropped her into the old jar of garlic salt. I put a cap on the jar and after that I only heard the pitter-patter of her machine gun rounds hitting the lid.
On Sunday I went to the local market early before it opened. I had Ms. Gunny Bunny in the jar in my pocket, along with her coin and some household epoxy. It was early, and the streets were still empty. Even the vendors hadn’t begun setting up. I found the place where I picked the coin out of the asphalt. The round divot was still there. I pulled the epoxy out of my pocket, unscrewed the cap and globbed a dollop of the gooey adhesive into the coin sized hole in the ground. I grabbed the coin and the jar. I held the coin in my palm, removed the lid from the jar, tilted it, and slid Ms. Gunny Bunny onto the coin. She cursed the whole way down the inside of the jar while firing her gun. When she landed on the coin, there was an intense heat that came from it, and suddenly it was cold again. Ms. Gunny Bunny was gone, and the coin had the armored rabbit engraving again. I leaned over and placed the coin, rabbit side down into the epoxy filled hole in the ground. I heard and felt the squish of the epoxy.
When I stood back up I heard someone shouting. It was a member of a work crew.
“Hey, can’t you read the sign!”
I looked up and saw the sign he was pointing to. It read, “Sunday market closed for street repaving. Reopens next Sunday.”
I stepped back onto the sidewalk. A few minutes later a work crew and large trucks came down the street and poured a new layer of asphalt over it. I stayed for a while longer until the last bulldozer passed by, flattening the new surface and adding a final layer to Ms. Gunny Bunny’s tomb.
It’s been a few months since the ordeal ended. I applied to some new jobs, and I’m now with a company that gives me evenings and weekends off. I found a less expensive apartment closer to Main Street. It’s on the third floor, just incase there’s another 20 foot tall plush rodent who feels the need to interrupt my evenings. I moved the last of my belongings in this morning. There’s only one thing that I left behind. My television is on the front step of the building with a note on it that says “FREE TV”. If you know my old address, feel free to grab it.
- The End -