[s 4] FluffyRocker's World Tour
Punk Bunny!
the day and partly due to purely instinctive responses to darkness,
quiet, warmth and boredom. Most of these things are usually easy to find
at night, no matter where one may currently be. A Bunnymover tour bus, for
example -- one of the new mag-lev kind -- can streak through the Nebraskan
bedrock almost silently, the environment of its compartments completely
adjustable for the comfort of its passengers. So Fluffyrocker had no real
reason to be awake. Which, of course, he was.
The Rocker prided himself on being a die-hard insomniac, the kind
that exercised at three AM, and ate a fourth meal between midnight and
dawn. He did sleep of course, several hours a day in the afternoon right
before every show. But nights he usually spent either partying with
friends or composing in the quiet before dawn. Tonight, however, the party
had died down early...so Fluffyrocker found himself watching rock walls
move by through panes of impact-resistant plastic, hoping that the scenery
would inspire him somehow.
The sole light in the bus came from above his sleeping palette, and
looking at the window he could see his own reflection framed by the
dimness of the rest of the bus. Only the highlights in his black fur
were visible, but his blue eyes and the white patch below his throat
shone clearly, ghost images against the receding tunnel walls. Looking
around the rest of his plush forward passenger compartment he could see a
few band members who asked to crash with him, probably clearing out of
their own compartment to give somebun and a groupie a little privacy. How
they snuck the groupie through security, Fluffyrocker had no idea. It was
a trick he wouldn't mind learning himself. Punkbunny also lay in one
corner of his compartment, her personality making her the rabbit equivalent
of the 800-pound gorilla who could sleep anywhere she wanted...but they
were best friends, and he invited her to sleep here simply because he
didn't have any use for privacy tonight.
Being constantly surrounded by friends, he really couldn't complain
about being alone. But as a convert he always felt a little different
from other rabbits, a little excluded from the groups in which they tended
to gather instinctively. When a newcomer is thrust into a society, he
faces only two real ways to build a life: He can either conform
religiously, or force others to appreciate his differences. The Rocker
needed to be different -- even when he was human -- and so settling into a
normal bunny's life just never came up as an option. He had succeeded
pretty well, using his skills to make himself a small sensation. But
sometimes fame made him even more unique and more alone.
There were compensations...although so far on this tour, none of them
were being allowed backstage. If he didn't know better, he'd think that
his security manager was being jealous, keeping other does just outside
his reach. Maybe he could talk to her about that. A doefriend would
make late nights more interesting, and if anybun knew what it was like
to be different, Punkbunny should.
A faint screeching of guitars came from where Punkbunny lay stretched
out on her palette, asleep with her Walkbun headset still clipped around
her ears. The leggy doe was intimidating even unconscious, like some
sleeping tiger in yellow and purple stripes, the pattern in which she
had currently dyed her fur. They had a lot of fun together back when
FluffyRocker first came to Denverwarren, she being the worst influence
possible and he remaining stubbornly starry-eyed to balance her cynicism.
Even back then he had never seen her fur's natural color. His only hint
of the rabbit behind the carefully tailored appearence were the occasional
fawny roots that would appear if she wore a fashion for too long. For the
past year they had been good friends but only that, as she turned to young
bucks who provided more exciting sexual adventures and he lost himself in
his music and his fans. With a smile that held only a hint of lustful
appreciation he looked down at the supine doe, her toes twitching slightly
to the music, every inch of her an Alpha.
Well, if she was going to keep him 'safe', he grinned to himself, she
was going to have to live with the consequences.
"Frith, I am so BORED!", FluffyRocker yelled in an operatic voice
that carried throughout the slumbering bus. Moans came out of the
darkness, one of them from PB as she lifted an eyelid and threw a pillow in
his direction. Chuckling, the Rocker wandered to the dining room to find
something to eat.
--
PUNK Bunny!! "SPAM the world, and *Mosh On Meat*!"