Rabbit had a vicious smile and a spine-tingling laugh. When he wasn’t laughing or smiling he appeared mild and sweet. If you met Rabbit on the street you might think he was a common pet until he smiled and then you’d know he was a serial killer. You might not live to tell the tale.
Rabbit escaped from a movie about furry animals and talking toys. He never liked playing by the rules — never liked rules of any sort. He was a bad ass Rabbit who got off on robbing banks and killing hostages. No one expected a rabbit in a bank, least of all, a rabbit who was a bank robber. People compared him to Billy-the-Kid, but Rabbit never liked comparisons — he was one of a kind.
There are videos of Rabbit on You-Tube: Rabbit with a sawed-off shot gun shooting civilians in a bank like ducks in a penny arcade; Rabbit smiling viciously, lips pulled back revealing large, gleaming canines. Rabbit liked taking selfies with his phone and posting them on Facebook. He also uploaded videos taken with his web-cam showing a more down to earth, everyday rabbit (he wanted to be recognized by the world as a real person): getting drunk, smoking pot, screwing a local hooker, and watching television. Some of the videos show another side of Rabbit — someone with a philosophical bent who might lecture for hours on the meaning of Modern Art or the importance of Conceptualism. A few videos show Rabbit in a depressed, maudlin state, crying like a baby, bemoaning the state of the world; then, snapping out of it with a vicious laugh and the blast of a submachine gun. You have to ask if it was all a joke or some sort of performance layered with hidden meaning. He didn’t really care about fame or the money he stole… he just wanted to be bad and make the world take notice. The photos and videos were proof he existed.
Rabbit became very popular in spite of himself. He was another You-Tube wonder. People couldn’t get enough of his bad ass antics. He became a celebrity. He was invited to do the talk show circuit. Publishers were after him to write a book on any topic no matter how irrelevant — his name on the cover was all that mattered. Galleries were after Rabbit to exhibit bits and pieces from his life: doodles on napkins, bloodstained clothes, dirty underwear — anything with a Rabbit signature. At the same time, the body count continued to mount. Rabbit enjoyed killing. He enjoyed maiming and dismembering. He was becoming an aficionado of suffering. He documented the torment he inflicted on innocent bystanders. The public was fascinated. No one complained. Rabbit was an addictive, new form of entertainment that appealed to the masses. The police were reluctant to interfere. They feared a riot if Rabbit was ever arrested — they also enjoyed the entertainment value, watching rather than being part of the violence.
Companies paid exorbitant fees to use Rabbit’s image on all sorts of products from candy to home-security. At first his new found fame didn’t matter. Rabbit went about the business of maiming, robbing, and killing for fun. The change slowly began as his fame and fortune grew. In the beginning Rabbit was on his own, binging on malice and menace. In time, Rabbit felt the pressure to entertain a demanding public. Nielson kept track and Rabbit’s ratings were beginning to dip. He had to increase the level of violence. The Late Show massacre was the last time Rabbit had a ratings up-tick. Rabbit was covered in blood and gore, but the thrill was gone. The pressure to satisfy a famished public took the fun out of indiscriminate murder. Mayhem lost all appeal once it was sanctioned and promoted.
Rabbit withdrew from public appearances. He became a shut-in. He stopped posting photos and videos. He no longer updated his blog. He lost interest in committing violent crime. Rabbit became morose. His eyes were forever red with tears. He would have drifted away until there was nothing left if it wasn’t for his agitated fans. The people spoke and they wanted Rabbit back. The masses missed the thrill of virtual mayhem, the kind of comfortable violence that only Rabbit could achieve with a gun and butcher knife. The police were implored to locate Rabbit, arrest him and force him to make a televised appearance. Everyone wanted something from Rabbit: they wanted to blame him; they wanted to praise him; they wanted an admission of guilt along with an act of unspeakable violence. Rabbit only wanted redemption. In the grips of his agoraphobia Rabbit began to meditate. It soothed his soul and mollified his bad ass attitude.
Rabbit was forced out of his self imposed retirement — meditation helped in his transition. He appeared on the “Hour of Power” show with the famous TV Evangelist. He came to pray — he came to pray for peace. He looked like a furry, white Buddha — he looked like a cuddly pet. The audience booed, even the Reverend looked offended. Everyone expected some sort of action. The Reverend chided Rabbit, trying to pique his interest with Bible stories that glorified god’s wrath. Rabbit was provided with a knife and cudgel, but he was too disheartened to participate. The Reverend took the first shot and the audience swarmed the stage, out for blood. It was the beginning of the Easter Festivities and Rabbit would make a fine feast.