On a gorgeous spring day, you take the day off from work. You stay home to get some Spring Cleaning accomplished while your family is at work and school and effectively out of the way.
After a lovely breakfast, you clear your dishes and wash them by hand as you gaze out the window onto your sun drenched back lawn. As you watch rabbit nibble some grass, you daydream about warmer mornings when you can take your breakfast on the patio.
A noise disturbs your pleasant revelry. It’s not loud, but something about it alerts you to danger. You turn and find nothing there.
Knowing that your daughter’s room is an absolute sty, you decide to tackle it first. On her walls are pictures of family and friends. One wall is dedicated to her equestrian awards. Several ribbons hang on the wall and a shelf holds a few trophies. Most are small and represent that she competed but didn’t place. However, on the higher shelves there are a few third and second place awards. She has a special spot reserved for first place.
Upon entering her room, you begin picking up clothes and tossing them into her laundry basket which you can see through her open closet door. Next to the basket are a pair of chunky 70’s heels you got at a vintage store but haven’t been able to find for a few weeks.
On the desk, among the papers, books, stapler, scissors, binder clips, tacks, tape, and correction fluid, you find a moldy plate, a knife, and a fork. You look out of her window onto the lawn and contemplate just dropping the little glass plate into the trash along with the silverware. They have been missing long enough that no one has noticed—
The thought breaks off because you notice something peculiar: a sound that is both familiar and out of place. You turn slowly away from the window and face the bed.
Sitting on the bed is a bunny! It’s got cute little floppy ears and is adorable! Instinctively, you back away from it and bump into the desk. How did it get in here? you wonder. It lifts its head and you see that it doesn’t have the adorably vacant expression one expects from a bunny. Its eyes are menacing.
Suddenly, you recognize the noise: the bunny was licking its chops.
You look around for an adequate weapon. Immediately, you dismiss the knife and fork. Neither is sturdy enough, nor sharp enough, to defend yourself with. Maybe the plate would be heavy enough to throw. In the closet are those hardcore vintage heels. On the shelves, equestrian trophies. The desk is littered with possible weapons.
Would you run your hand over the desk feeling for the scissors? Maybe you would try to make it to the closet.
What would you choose? Tell us in the comments.
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