Once upon a time
in a hole in the ground
where the roots of the trees
tangled ‘round and around
lived a quiet young rabbit,
one Poppy by name,
and he wondered why things
always seemed just the same
as they had been for years,
and he asked his Grandpoppy
why they could not live
above ground and go hopping
and bask in the colors,
from purple on down,
instead of just
seventy-two shades of brown.
Grandpoppy said,
“It is much better to stay
where things are still small
than look on in dismay
at the withered old oak trees
that they will become,
all twisted and dying
and dried in the sun.”
Poppy could not be comforted
and went to sit
up above, and be under
the moon for a bit,
and he sat there alone
singing sad bunny songs
until old cousin Ricky
came hopping along.
Now, Rick never quite
got along with his parents
who couldn’t abide
his disheveled appearance,
so he’d left for a year
leaving only a note
reading ‘Screw all you losers,
I’m gone!’, quote-enquote.
“But I’m back!” shouted Ricky,
“What’s up, motherfuck!
I see you’re still here.
Man, has that got to suck.”
Poppy sighed and said,
“It is much better to stay
where things are still small
than look on in dismay
at the withered old oak trees
that they will become,
all twisted and dying
and dried in the sun.”
“Fuck that,” replied Ricky,
“I know what you need.
Let’s go on downtown;
get some hookers and weed!”
“By golly!” said Poppy,
and did a small dance,
for he quite enjoyed fishing
and liked to eat plants.
So off through the woods
the two bunny boys hopped,
past some carrots where Poppy
would like to have stopped,
but the two soon arrived
at a strange bunny town
where the neon-lit buildings
pumped stereo sound
so loudly that Poppy
had covered his ears
and barely heard Ricky shout,
“Let’s get some beers!”
They went to a nightclub
called Pussy Galore’s
where the band was called
Elvis’ Festering Sores.
The crowd were all dancing
in curious poses
and Poppy saw plenty
of rings in their noses!
He wandered about,
his mouth open in awe,
until Ricky dropped 4 or 5
pills in his maw.
“Ptui!” said Poppy,
but swallowed a few,
and soon he began
to feel somewhat askew...
but Ricky yelled “Mingle!”,
and dashed off to dance,
leaving Poppy to stare
at a stain on his pants.
The rest of the evening
went by in a blur.
Somebody kissed Poppy
and he wasn’t sure
if it had been a girl,
or even a bunny!
Besides, he was seeing
his colors all funny-
reds, yellows, and purples,
all swirly and twisted;
and some colors he
wasn’t sure even existed.
Poppy was lost
in a sea of his senses!
He’d lost all his reason!
He’d lost all his rhyme!
And soon he even began to lose his rhythm ...
Poppy then stumbled
out into the street
to clear out his head
and steady his feet.
He looked up at the moon
(to make sure it was there)
and what to his dilated
eyes should appear,
but a gigantic figure
that blocked out the sky-
a figure he knew
in the blink of an eye.
“Bad Farmer Brown!”
Poppy screamed as he scurried.
That farmer was foe
to all things small and furry!
For years he had tried
to snuff out all the critters
who chewed up his carrots
and gave him the jitters.
He looked down at the rabbit
and said, “Well, well, well.
If it ain’t little Poppy!
Stick around fer a spell.”
Poppy cried, “I’m too young!
Please don’t squish me flat!”
The farmer said,
“Why would I wanna do that?
This here is my town
and you’re all welcome to it.
If I can’t keep you out
of my carrots, then screw it!
I’ll put you someplace
where you won’t cause a stir.”
Poppy thought about that
as he sat on the curb.
And he thought and thought more
and those thoughts twisted ‘round
until Poppy grew tired
and had to lay down,
so he slept there alone
on the street until dawn
while around him the sounds
of the city droned on ...
To make a short story
of one that is long,
Poppy left the next day
after buying a bong,
which he kept fully packed
in his hole in the ground
as he tried to forget
about Bad Farmer Brown.
And the city kept growing,
as you may have guessed,
for the rabbits kept doing
what rabbits do best.
They screwed and had babies
‘til finally they grew
to such numbers that
Brown’s city just wouldn’t do.
And they ate until nothing
was left of his crops,
until from starvation
the bunnies all dropped,
and soon there were turds
where his carrots had been,
and the farmer went broke
and died angry - The End.
