Volphs & Rabbits
Bunny dropped a Fumblr message with his address to the nice alien missing her head and then immediately forgot all about it because he noticed the shelf with his decorative alcohol bottles was dusty and he had to stop everything then and there to clean that up because a messy house meant a messy mind. After he got out the paper towels and Windex from the next room over, he was suddenly struck with the horrifying idea that his dusty as fuck bottles might have been in the background of his last video, so he had to spend a few awkward minutes rewatching the last clip he posted to make sure his subscribers didn't see how he lived because no one thinks a man who forgets to dust is sexy. In the course of doing so, he received an alert on his phone that the figure he ordered from Japan was delayed, which reminded him that he should check to see if the latest season of that magical girl anime was posted so he and Lucy could have an online watch party later.
In the course of the very short walk between his workshop and his home, he almost tripped over one of Avery's toy dinosaurs half-buried in the yard and he made a mental note to dig that up so he wouldn't keep tripping on it, which was quickly forgotten because then he started wondering what kind of dinosaur it even was. He managed to keep on this train of thought long enough to boot his PC up and Foogle it, but then he remembered that he should probably eat, so he went to the fridge to chug down some cold blood (heating it up in a pot seemed like a lot of work) and to say hello to his baby psychic tree child. This was followed by him scarfing down on cheese puffs (sure, he couldn't taste them very well but it was the principle) while playing around with his son's plush duckling.
Most of this, of course, can be chalked up to the fact that he'd slept maybe five hours max in the last few days and, of course, unmedicated ADHD (Bunny kept meaning to call the alien therapist for aliens but he kept forgetting, possibly because of the unmedicated ADHD) and the sheer virtue of the fact that Emily the Duck really was the world's cutest toy duck, but as for giving his address away to Internet strangers he hadn't even talked to over the phone, his self-preservation instincts eroded away several memory modifications ago. Bunny could generally keep himself together around his kids but the instant they went to their mother, all bets were off. There was a reason why a couple regulators kept bets on what bullshit he'd find himself in the middle of next.
Bunny (for the record, clad in his tie-dyed chained short-shirts, neon yellow mesh shirt, sequined crop top, and thigh-high rainbow platform boots because it's important to dress appropriately for winter) was narrating dramatic duck adventures because this is the sort of thing he does when left to himself when he heard the jangling of his ghost alarms, this being the massive horde of wind chimes and cans on a string strung all along the perimeter of his property. Ghosts could come for you at any minute and you had to be prepared to deal with them. They'd freeze your swing set and crack it apart. They'd peek into your windows. They'd steal your dead wife's face and beg to be let inside but you just had to say no, no, no.
Bunny had three sacred callings in life and warding off all the goddamn ghosts was one of them. Fuckers.
He froze for a second, listened, and then crept to the window to peek out from behind the shades, normally shut tight so no light could enter.
"What the fuck."
