[s 3] FluffyRocker's World Tour

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Punk Bunny!

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Nov 16, 1999, 3:00:00 AM11/16/99
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Burrberry was a very ordinary sort of devilbunny. Surrounded by other
rabbits at the stage unloading area, there was absolutely nothing about him
that drew him apart from the crowd. His dun brown fur matched the average
rabbit color exactly, and his brownish eyes held the same glassy look that
could be seen among regbuns everywhere. His life consisted of menial
labor; in this case, lugging heavy speakers and amplifiers off of the
tour's cargo mover to their appointed positions on stage. In all, it was
boring, unimportant work, and there was nothing about it -- indeed, nothing
at all about Burrberry himself -- to make you think that in this small
rabbit hung the fate of devilbunnies everywhere, and possibly the entire
world.

So let's ignore him. Stomping onto the same stage was a much more
intriguing rabbit, a doe with her fur dyed in stripes of blue and yellow,
sporting several glittering piercings and dark wraparoud shades. As if
such severe attire didn't set her apart enough, other rabbits circled
around the doe like a storm trying to shanghai an eye.

"Punkbunny, one of the dumb buns put his paw through a speaker. I'm
talking to a supplier in Omaha for a replacement..."

"PB, chick: The rocker wants to go out for pizza. He won't sit still
for the haredresser..."

"Can you *please* tell the backup singers to leave Jack alone? He's
cowering in his dressing den!"

The doe hopped past them all, talking to the air but pointedly ignoring
everybun. "Chick is *not* a stage manager, spuds. Billy up to the boss."

"PB, we need someone who'll actually get things done!"

"Ain't chick's problem," she fluffed, backing into an elevator. As the
door closed, she smiled at the crowd. "You need somebun bounced, spuds,
pull my pigtails."

A short ride and a hop later, PunkBunny shouldered aside the star on the
Boss's dressing room. "Rocker? The kits want your blood."

"Yeah? Well, tell them there's beer on the truck."

"Not as satisfying."

The black buck nodded, sitting on his ruffled bedmat. "Tell them
to wait until the sound check, at least." He yawned and scratched one
ear casually. "Hey, is it time for that yet?"

"Just about. You fresh, stud?"

"Naw." Stretching, FluffyRocker yawned again in mid-sentence. "I'm
bored, chick. This tour was supposed to be fun, not *work*."

"Tour don't start till tonight, Rocker.

"But where are all the willing doe groupies? And why can't I
go get a pizza?"

"Look, stud," Punkbunny sighed, cleaning her shades on one shoulder.
"You aced PB as security, and chick's gonna keep the nasties away."

"I don't want anything *nasty*. Just a 9-month old, a beer and a spam
and pineapple pizza."

"Somebun'll get you the pizza and beer, stud. But chick's keeping
the gates tight. Got chased by some of your freak fans today...wanted
backstage passes."

"Oh? Who were they?"

"Just two thrashers -- big, ugly buns," the doe explained, "Smelled
real bad. Serious dudes, but chick handled them."

"Good." Stretching again, FluffyRocker started towards the door. "I
guess I've got work to do, hmmn?"

"Damn straight," she said, nudging the buck out of the dressing den.
"Go on -- get your act on. Before chick drastics on you." She waited
until the elevator doors had closed before settling in on the bedmat.

It was a few lazy minutes later that the sound check started, and
the Rocker's voice echoed through the walls around her.

/Fluffy played guitar...wailing good with Bugs and Daffy,
and the Fuddettes from Mars.../

PB turned over and went to sleep. First day on the job didn't suck
too much.

--
PUNK Bunny!! "SPAM the world, and *Mosh On Meat*!"

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