Apr 21, 2016
MAMA'S SCORE
MAMA’S SCORE
The score was going down. Everyone was in their spot. Race number three was about to start. Every spectator’s eye locked on the greyhound starting box. A rabbit in aviator sunglasses would soon crack a smoke bomb under his sweatshirt and drops it hissing at his feet. He would quietly walk away as the crowd erupts in panic.
The Rabbit siblings needed money. A lot of it. Mama was hurt in a…
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