Sorry about the lack of response at the moment. I’m on another week of double shifts and keep nodding off. It’s the getting up early part that’s the killer – I can never get to sleep early enough at night so have to do it in the evening after work. In bits.

It’s only for a week this time. Next week’s double-up is my normal afternoon plus the evening so my natural body-clock can cope with that.

I’m not ignoring you, I’m just that guy who sits in the corner and smiles and never says much.

The one nobody else can see 😉

Oh – while I’m in a brief period of wakeyness, before I try to shut this brain down for a few more hours, I saw a wonderful thing today.

In Local Shop, their shelf labels are crap. They keep getting knocked off and I find them on the floor and have to work out which bizarre item they should be stuck in front of. If I can’t I just hand them to someone else.

Anyway, I found one today beside the Easter chocolate stuff that just said ‘Hollow Bunnies’.

In real life it refers to chocolate bunnies that are hollow. In my mind it conjured a dark and cold evening around the fire, with a gnarled old grandpa telling his grandchildren, “It’s nearly Easter, children. Soon the Hollow Bunnies will come. Best stay close to home.”

I don’t have a good Easter horror tale. I will think about this during smoke-breaks tomorrow. Also during most of the rest of the day – the job is on autopilot most of the time. I could do it in my sleep.

Some days, especially on double shifts, I do.

Oh hell, now I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about this long enough to fall asleep, am I?


19 thoughts on “Scarcity

  1. Picturing the movie poster: Just *barely* slightly evil looking chocolate bunny with just a touch of strawberry or somesuch at the side of its mouth. Caption:

    “They’re not hollow AFTER Easter!”

    “They like biting off the heads first!”





    I bet you 5p you have the bones (again…) of a story there, old man.

    There is an online game somewhere, which my son, now at Aberdeen University (he loves it by the way, says it’s the best thing that could have happened to him, going to live in your city) used to play, in which you had to kill repellent, randomly-appearing, bloodied by scarily-aggressive mostrosities called “Zombunnies”. Believe me, they were terrible things…….


    • The idea has had a few days to stew. I think it’s going to turn into a follow-up to ‘The Sweet Man’ because the bad guy was still at large at the end of that one. It could develop into a serial killer series.


  3. It’s a well known fact that f—–s* have hollow backs, so presumably hollow bunnies belong to that genus. As many of the different species are malevolent and none are wholly benign there’s definitely something to be working with there, are there any Welsh legends you could adapt ?

    * I have left out the letters because of course it’s never advisable to name the good folk directly.


    • The Celts didn’t consider them good folk. They were very dangerous indeed, one careless word and you’d sell your child for a trinket.

      I wonder if they are still around. People still seem to do that sort of thing.


  4. Fairy tale

    The hollow bunnies aren’t hollow – they live in a hollow, waiting for a child to come off his bike and land in it. Where did that pothole in the cycle path come from? Who’ll help the wee lad, too sore to move with his sprained ankle?

    The bunnies shield and warm his face with their fluffy bodies. “They are trying to look after me while they go get help” he thinks. But it’s harder and harder to breathe with all that fur over his face…

    “Let me breathe! Let me breathe!” But there seems to be more and more bunnies and his shouts are stifled. There are bunnies all over him – he cannot move his limbs and his left ankle explodes in agony when he tries to get up. Bunnies are really heavy when you’re five.

    He feels the first tentative bite. He feels it all right, he’s never felt pain like it before and he bellows for his mother. All is muffled by the the downy, soft, fur of the hollow bunnies as they nestle their backsides into his face until it is their turn for supper, some time hence.

    Days later, the boy’s father’s eyes sharpen. They are bleary and bloodshot, but they sharpen nonetheless as he draws a bead on one of his boy’s killers. The rifle cracks and its aim is true. The fox lies dead. The hollow bunnies gossip amongst themselves.

    You see, the hollow bunnies were smart bunnies. They could not defeat the fox so they had to blame the fox and make someone stronger defeat the fox for them. And that is why Israel set up 9/11.

    There, that’s your whacko conspiracy bedtime story. Sleep tight.


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