Random memory from 18 years ago:

Apparently, I thought I was born in the year of the rabbit and had a strange obsession with the animal. Hell, I even thought my buck teeth were indicative of the fact that I am a rabbit made man (let’s keep away from the awkward furry implications from that last statement and we’d all be happy campers, people). Anyway, this strange obsession with rabbits made 7-year old me go hop around the house and make rabbit noises. This apparently drove my folks crazy, because next thing I knew they bought me a big white rabbit. No, really, the rabbit was fucking huge.

Now before you go on and tell me “Awww that’s so cute! Your parents are so nice! I want a widdle bunny for a pet too,” let me point something out here. I was under the delusion that I was a rabbit. I was driving my parents crazy. They were probably thinking “Oh really, rabbit? Well, let me tell you something about rabbits: they’re smelly, they eat nothing but vegetables, if they bite you die of rabies, they shit all over the place… heck, they fuck like there’s no tomorrow! You want to be a rabbit, eh? Well, here’s a rabbit. Let’s see how you like it. And maybe you’ll abandon your rabbit ways and try being human for once.”

Okay, maybe they’re really not thinking that way, but what the heck. Anyway, I called the rabbit “Bugsy”. The world probably thought I was being cute and all and I ran out of creative ideas and named the stupid rabbit after Bugs Bunny, but I really named him after Bugsy Siegel.

Also, my rabbit talked to me. No, really. Now before you go and call the cops and lock me up because I was doped up on acid when I was seven, hear me out. The rabbit really talked to me. It was in a high-pitched voice. Okay, so the rabbit only spoke to me when my dad was around, and its voice was coming from the general direction of my dad, but it didn’t matter. My rabbit talked to me!

Yeah. Like that.

Yeah. Like that.

So after a couple of weeks of me and the rabbit having great bonding time (running hopping around the garage, eating carrots, carrying the rabbit around everywhere), I was pretty proud of my talking rabbit. One day a friend of my dad came over. My dad wasn’t around, so while waiting for him, I decided to show off my talking rabbit.

ME: Look at my rabbit!
DAD’S FRIEND: I see it.
ME: It walks!
DAD’S FRIEND: I’m sure it does.
ME: It talks!
DAD’S FRIEND: I’m sure it- what?
ME: IT TALKS!
DAD’S FRIEND: I– uh. Okay.
ME: No, really!
DAD’S FRIEND: Okaaaaay. Make it talk.

I grab Bugsy the talking bunny, and coax it to talk.

ME: Come on Bugsy, talk for me. Show off your talking skills!
DAD’S FRIEND: You see, he ain’t talking.
ME: No, wait, he talks! He’s… he’s… shy.
DAD’S FRIEND: I’m sure. Now if I slowly start to walk away from you, don’t be offended ok? I’m after my safety here.
ME: Wait!

Then in an act of desperation, I mimic the rabbit’s voice.

ME: (high-pitched voice) Oh hello there good sir! I’m Bugsy, Ade’s white fat rabbit!
DAD’S FRIEND: Y- you see, you’re not doing a good job playing ventriloquist there, son. I can see your lips moving.
ME: (innocent look) What the heck are you talking about? (switching to rabbit voice) I can talk! I’m a rabbit and I can talk!
DAD’S FRIEND: Really.
ME: (rabbit voice) I can talk! Come oooon!
DAD’S FRIEND: Okay, I’ll just… stay behind this… wall, this strong, protective wall, and just call me when you need me, ok?

So starts my reputation as that weird kid who sits at the corner, who loves to eat carrot sticks raw, and who talks to rabbits. I live a charmed life.

What about you guys? Do you have weird animal experiences (sexual or otherwise) when you were kids?

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