[s 12] FluffyRocker's World Tour
Wynn and PB
rabbits at the stage re-loading 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 stage to their appointed positions on tour's cargo mover. 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. After all, everyone else does. He's used to it.
Expects it. So much so that, one surmises, it might even take him a few
minutes to realize that a soft sibilant whisper of "Like, hi, cutie!"
might conceivably be aimed at him...
***************
FluffyRocker had never been so miserable in his entire life. He paced the
floor of his Mover cabin savagely, occasionally snarling at PunkBunny, who
was lounging against the wall of the cabin calmly adjusting her latest
nipple ring.
"I can't believe you gave the order to leave!" he yelled yet again.
"We were three hours late, Stud. Tour's got to move sometime."
"But not without my say so!"
"Schedule's my baby, Stud. Part of what you hired me for, dig?"
"Then you're fired!"
"Chill, doof. We waited as long as we could. Figure there'll be other
groupies."
"This one wasn't like that."
Natch, Studster." <rolleyes>
"Get out of here!" Rocker yelled, and flung a nearby Snapple bottle at
her. PB dodged it with ease, stretched, gave her shades a quick wipe, and
headed for the door.
"Chick's not worth it, Rocker," she called over her shoulder as she left.
"Yes, she is," he said quietly to the closed door. She *was* worth it.
There had been a kinship there that he'd never found with any other
rabbit. And there had definitely been chemistry. She had felt it too;
he knew she had. So what had happened? Where had she been? She hadn't
shown up for the concert, or backstage afterwards. PB had assured him
she'd been watching. Had something happened to her? Had she simply
changed her mind? Surely she'd have sent some sign. Had he done
something wrong? Pushed her too hard? It had seemed so right, at the
time, but maybe...
He was interrupted by a brisk rapping at the door.
"Go away!" he yelled.
The tapping continued. "Special delivery for Mr. F. Rocker," a voice
called.
"Fluff off!"
*taptaptap*
"Oh, would you just..." He flung open the door. A small deliverybun with a
large package was sitting there.
"Are you Mr. F. Rocker?"
"No, I'm General LonGears. Of *course* I'm FluffyRocker! Who else would
be..."
"Special delivery. Paw here, please."
"Oh, give it here." He grabbed the package, slammed the door, and resumed
his pacing. It said a good deal about his state of mind that it didn't
occur to him for several minutes that a deliverybun on a private Tour
Mover in the middle of the night was a very odd thing. And that the fact
that the package and been distinctly damp was odder still. He paused,
then pulled open the box. Inside were bunches of water lilies that had
obviously been harvested from a certain pond right outside of the warren.
He stared, ears twitching, then bound to the door and threw it open. The
deliverybun was still sitting there, lop ears hanging down from beneath its
hat.
"Like, I said *special* delivery!" she chirped. "So, like, what are you
messing around with the box for? <gigglewink>"
For one incredulous moment, he just stared. The he shook his head,
grabbed her paw, and pulled. "You just had to do it this way, didn't
you?" he laughed. "Get in here."
And somehow the slamming of the door had a much happier ring to it this
time.
--
Wynn and Punk Bunny!!