[s 7] FluffyRocker's World Tour
Punk Bunny!
grin tugging at his whiskers. His guitar was slung over his shoulder, and,
this being two AM, he was ready to rock. He'd been in his element all day,
moving with the crowds and doing some circumspect jamming with the locals
as time and pursuit allowed, but of course he'd had to keep one hop ahead
of Punk Bunny and her security goons the whole time. He laughed to his
reflection on the smooth walls as he loped. PB was a good friend, but she
just didn't get it. Sure, her job was to keep him physically safe. But his
well being, his music, also depended on having some contact with the real
world. Seeing his fans. Being seen. Engaging with them. Not living in a
cage. He knew these were just precautions for the tour, but he hadn't
realized just how affected he would be by the isolation. This day had
restored his balance: given his creativity a much needed nudge and broken
the unbearable boredom. Now he was ready to party and jam and maybe grab
some cottontail. His grin broadened. It'd been awhile.
The corridors were quiet and still, but he didn't let it discourage him.
He hadn't expected much of a night life in a warren this rural, anyway,
but still, the population had swelled with the anticipated concert as well
as the rumored Wynn visitation, and he knew bunnies well enough to know
that they wouldn't all be asleep. It wasn't often he slipped so
successfully out from under PunkBunny's vigilant paw and he was going to
make the most of it. If his audience wouldn't come to him he would go to
it and Oh baby would he make it a night to remember!
His thoughts were interrupted by a low murmuring of voices. At last! His
ears flicked towards the sounds, listening carefully for familiar and
unwelcome voices, and hearing none, prepared for his entrance. "You're on,
kid," he grinned to himself, and followed his own cue.
"Hey, dudes!" he called out, bouncing in. "What's happening? Is this place
really as dead as it seems?"
Heads swiveled, and eyes stared. "FluffyRocker? FluffyRocker!!" One of the
buns yelped. "Oh, man, I don't believe it! You weren't due here until
tomorrow, I thought! This is sooooo cool!!"
He had come into a small common room. It wasn't much of a night-life spot,
but he wasn't complaining any. What it lacked in liveliness he was sure he
could make up for in spades. A few groups of what were probably techbuns
had been hanging about chatting, including a promising looking angora and
a rather pretty piebald. There was an intriguing blue-eyed white, but she
was paired off with a chocolate buck. One or two other couples, a rex and
a nondescript dun completed the scene. It was a warm, intimate setting,
just right for an impromptu party.
The buns crowded around. Rocker pulled the guitar around, and struck an
experimental riff. "So, do you guys want a sneak preview?" he yelled out
in his best booming operatic voice. "Help me get a beat going here!"
The buns loved it, and cheered him on, waving their drinks and stomping
their feet. He was about to swing into the opening chords of his latest
composition, when he caught sight of the dun-colored lop out of the corner
of his eye. She was the only bun who hadn't moved, and was now sitting
totally alone, sipping her drink. Poor thing. She was probably a cleaning
bun or something, unused to mixing with the techs. He felt an unexpected
pang. He knew what it was to feel alone and excluded in this extremely
social community. And she oughtn't need to be alone. True, her coat was
oddly dull, and the blotchy butterfly on her nose wasn't terribly
becoming, but there was nothing wrong with her lines. Indeed, she had a
grace and delicacy about her that belied her rough coat. And those ears!
Intrigued, he tried to catch her eye, but she seemed to be absorbed by her
tea-cup. He gave a good-natured snort. He, FluffyRocker, was not about to
be upstaged by anybun, especially not a tea-cup!
"Hang on, everybun!" he called. "We have some serious breach of partying,
here!"
Grinning, he sauntered over to her, the others enjoying every minute of
it. With a grandiose bow and flourish, he playfully leered, "What's a nice
doe like you doing in a place like this?"
He didn't think that anybun could have resisted playing along. But the
dun, finally meeting his eyes, gave him a cool, dismissive look, and said,
"I *had* been enjoying a quiet evening." Then she deliberately turned
away.
FluffyRocker was nonplused. He didn't often meet with rejection from does,
and certainly not such utter finality. He knew he was a good-looking buck,
and a celebrity in his own right, and most does were quite happy to be
singled out by his attention. He felt a thin stirring of anger.
"Hey, OK, whatever. Sorry to have disturbed you." He gave an elaborate
shrug, and hopped back to join the other buns. They also had been
surprised by the scene, and there was an awkward moment of silence. Then
the piebald shimmied over to him and crooned, "What was that you were
starting? I don't think I know that one," and everybun began talking at
once, and the moment was broken. The buns crowded around him, the angora
tried out the guitar strings, and he was the center of the evening again.
Rocker deliberately put the dun out of his mind, and set about rocking
with his fans.
--
Punk Bunny...and a secret guest...