It's staring at me in a rather odd way.

Honestly! Most people get nice normal things under their beds: socks, gum wrappers, the occasional bed monster. Not me. No nice, safe dust bunnies that allow me to sleep the night through in uninterrupted reverie. It's never that easy.

No, really, there's something funny about the way it's looking at me.

Darn little plot bunny, crouching innocently in the shadows deep, deep under my bed. I tried to coax it out earlier with a prologue carrot…didn't work. It ate the prologue while my back was turned and hopped right back under the bed.

I really don't like the way it's watching me. Those pink eyes are rather creepy.

What else can you feed a plot bunny? Dream lettuce? Maybe…but how on Earth am I supposed to sleep with the thing lurking under my bed? For all I know it could leap out on me during the night, infecting me with all sorts of strange climaxes and conclusions.

That thing's starting to make me nervous…say, can plot bunnies catch rabies? Probably.

Just grand. There's a rabid plot bunny under my bed. Who do you call to remove rabid plot bunnies? Somehow I doubt Animal Control would appreciate that call. "Hello? Yes. There's a diseased literary device hiding under my bed in the form of a rather small, white rabbit. Any chance you could come take it off my hands? What? No, I'm not insane!…I haven't been smoking anything - and I'm not on medication!…Fine, same to you!" No, I don't think that'll work.

It's twitching.

You know, I think it is rabid. That would explain an awful lot. Like this for example. No one would actually write about a rabid plot bunny unless they'd been bitten by a rabid plot bunny, would they? Of course, I don't think I've been bitten yet. Hm.

Are plot bunnies supposed to bare their teeth like that? I don't think…

Why won't these things ever leave me alone? I think they have a burrow somewhere in my backyard and just hop into my room to harass me whenever they feel like it. Not that they're usually rabid. Usually they just sit right beyond my reach and do whatever the plot bunny equivalent of evil cackling is. It's really…

Is that foam? It looks like foam…this can't be good…

Okay…anyone with ideas on how to escape a rabid plot bunny, help. Now.

Oh no. It's crawling out from under the bed. It's coming toward me.

Death by rabid plot bunny can't be a fun experience. Probably involves a quick session of frantic, nonsensical writing followed by a terminal affliction of writer's block.

Wait…maybe that's not foam. Possible tooth paste.

Do plot bunnies brush their teeth? Probably not. Oh well, it was a thought.

The thing is sitting on my lap.

Don't move. That's the key. Don't move…don't move…don't - does typing count as moving? Shoot, I think I'm in trouble.

You know, close up, that's definitely foam. Yup, definitely - and those are definitely teeth.

I think I'm about to be bitten by a rabid plot bunny. At this point, I'd say it's a pretty sure thing…unless anyone would like to intervene at this point? Sacrifice themselves to the plot bunny in my place? No, I didn't think so…


It's staring at me in a rather odd way…

No plot bunnies were harmed in the writing of this short story.