Bunny Sleeps with the Fishes
Last in the series Goodnight, Bunny
A Child’s Introduction to the Mafia
Also In The Series:
☺ Bunny & the Loan Shark ☺
☺ Bunny & the Capo’s Mistress ☺
☺ Bunny Sells Bad Crank to the Wrong People ☺
☺ Bunny in the Witness Protection Program ☺
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Once upon a time (twice if you are a Buddhist), a secret society was founded in Palermo or somewhere near Palermo, which is far away from where you live.
This secret society was formed by men of honor to promote free enterprise and to eventually control overpopulation in urban areas of America, which is where you live.
Fast forward many years and many miles to present day Bunnyville, where the livin’ is easy (for most people) and the cotton (among other crops) is high.
A college dropout named Bunny was bored. All of his friends and acquaintances went to business during the day, leaving poor Bunny all alone during the day because he was unemployed because he was unemployable.
You see, society looks down its collective snotty nose at college dropouts unless they happen to be vapid young women with big breasts and booties.
Because Bunny was a boy, his flaws were not viewed as assets. Poor Bunny couldn’t catch a break, he frequently thought. Bunny often felt sorry for himself, but was too lazy and pathetic to improve his lot.
One lonely day when all of Bunny’s friends and acquaintances were at business, Bunny went to the local pool hall to kill some time.
After his eyes stopped tearing from all the tobacco and ganja smoke in the air, they focused on Pool Table # 6, occupied by schizophrenic wiseguy Vincent “Crazy Shirley” Mortadella and his zaftig friend-with-benefits Sally “Alps” Gabbagool.
Mr. Crazy Shirley caught Bunny staring longingly at his friend, who was racking the billiard balls for the next game. “What the fuck are you lookin’ at?” he politely asked Bunny.
Without the benefit of a good vocabulary—him being a dropout and all—that would have allowed him to choose his words carefully, Bunny blurted, “I was just admiring your friend’s rack.”
And quicker than you can say “Forgeddabouit,” Mr. Crazy Shirley escorted Bunny from the pool hall. “You like fish?” he asked startled Bunny.
“I guess so,” Bunny said while being dragged out of town.
No one ever saw Bunny after that. Most people in Bunnyville assumed Mr. Crazy Shirley drove him halfway across the country so that he could reenroll in college in order to improve his vocabulary.
Some people in Bunnyville had a different opinion, but they were men of honor who held sacred the code of omerta, and consequently, lived to not tell about it.
~~The End~~
Also In The Series:
☺ Bunny & the Loan Shark ☺
☺ Bunny & the Capo’s Mistress ☺
☺ Bunny Sells Bad Crank to the Wrong People ☺
☺ Bunny in the Witness Protection Program ☺
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once upon a time (twice if you are a Buddhist), a secret society was founded in Palermo or somewhere near Palermo, which is far away from where you live.
This secret society was formed by men of honor to promote free enterprise and to eventually control overpopulation in urban areas of America, which is where you live.
Fast forward many years and many miles to present day Bunnyville, where the livin’ is easy (for most people) and the cotton (among other crops) is high.
A college dropout named Bunny was bored. All of his friends and acquaintances went to business during the day, leaving poor Bunny all alone during the day because he was unemployed because he was unemployable.
You see, society looks down its collective snotty nose at college dropouts unless they happen to be vapid young women with big breasts and booties.
Because Bunny was a boy, his flaws were not viewed as assets. Poor Bunny couldn’t catch a break, he frequently thought. Bunny often felt sorry for himself, but was too lazy and pathetic to improve his lot.
One lonely day when all of Bunny’s friends and acquaintances were at business, Bunny went to the local pool hall to kill some time.
After his eyes stopped tearing from all the tobacco and ganja smoke in the air, they focused on Pool Table # 6, occupied by schizophrenic wiseguy Vincent “Crazy Shirley” Mortadella and his zaftig friend-with-benefits Sally “Alps” Gabbagool.
Mr. Crazy Shirley caught Bunny staring longingly at his friend, who was racking the billiard balls for the next game. “What the fuck are you lookin’ at?” he politely asked Bunny.
Without the benefit of a good vocabulary—him being a dropout and all—that would have allowed him to choose his words carefully, Bunny blurted, “I was just admiring your friend’s rack.”
And quicker than you can say “Forgeddabouit,” Mr. Crazy Shirley escorted Bunny from the pool hall. “You like fish?” he asked startled Bunny.
“I guess so,” Bunny said while being dragged out of town.
No one ever saw Bunny after that. Most people in Bunnyville assumed Mr. Crazy Shirley drove him halfway across the country so that he could reenroll in college in order to improve his vocabulary.
Some people in Bunnyville had a different opinion, but they were men of honor who held sacred the code of omerta, and consequently, lived to not tell about it.
~~The End~~