My Dearest Palinode,
I have received a layoff notice and, come Christmas, I will be leaving my current employment. As my current career is somewhat lacking in meaning or money (the two m's that make the world turn) I'm feeling more relieved than anything else at this development. That said, I'm now faced with a somewhat existential question, to whit: "What should I do with my life?"
I had thought to seek the answer to this question through more conventional means, such as career counselling or meditation or severe alcohol abuse. Now that I have found your services, however, I realize that a far easier path lies before me. Thank you in advance for charting my life path.
Anxiously Yours,
Derek Pickell, aka Dreadmouse
http://dreadmouse.livejournal.com
Shucks, Derek: 'tain't nothing. Here is a step-by-step illustrated guide to turning your life around. But first I have to tell you about a woman who died of cancer, and the wonderful gift she gave a young Schmutzie.
In the year of not-too-long-ago, Schmutzie was a child who had never met me, never shot a gun, never kissed a boy. Maybe kissed a girl by this point, I don't know. Hold on a sec.
Palinode: When did you get that crazy stuffed rabbit from the woman with cancer?
Schmutzie: I was in my twenties or maybe my teens.
Palinode: Really?
Schmutzie: I was not a child. It was a weird gift.
Hngh. Looks like I got that part of the story wrong. But the woman who gave her the gift definitely had cancer, and she's definitely dead now. I think.
Palinode: Is that woman with cancer dead now?
Schmutzie: Yes, she's dead.
Palinode: Just checking.
Anyway, this woman with cancer, facing the end of her life, turned her talents to making rabbits out of felt. Here is Schmutzie's rabbit, with a handy air freshener for purposes of scale. It lives at her parents' house.



A closer look reveals that this obscene ventral puckering is in fact a zipper:






Maybe next time we visit Schmutzie's parents.
I'm sure you're wondering, Dreadmouse, why I showed you these pictures. Isn't it obvious? I was going to suggest that you find work with Heritage Canada as an architectural technologist, but after Schmutzie and I visited her family last weekend, I realized that you could make felt rabbitvarks with offspring curled up in their disturbingly pink insides. Materials are cheap, you wouldn't have to leave home, and you would give countless children horrible dreams as they cowered under the button-blank gaze of All-Mother Rabbitvark.

12 comments:
Do you think this women was sending the message to "go forth and procreate?" (like rabbits)
And does Air Wick smell any better when the packaging is written in French?
I'm thinking that her dying brain was sending the message "Help! Neurons being eaten by cancer!"
The Air Wick air freshener smells classier in French, but with an undertone of sharp cheese.
what kind of cancer?
At a guess, I'd say it's the kind that you don't want.
That was hilarious! Truly, nothing is as horrifying as the empty womb of the felt rabbitvark. I'm sure glad she didn't include any felt placentas or afterbirth. Would that just look like gooey lint?
a damp oval of dark pink felt, about the size of a rabbit kid.
You can also plainly see there are openings.
The reason I come to this blog! This was fantastic!
I don't think there's any way I can express my admiration and appreciation for Palinode's incisive analysis of my career aspirations. I was born to be a plush rabbivark sculptor, I just didn't know it until now!
I feel so blessed.
That's it - I'm reporting you to PETSA (that's People for the Ethical Treatment of Stuffed Animals). Before you know it, you will have pretty girls wearing only felt lettuce leaves over their naughty parts and carrying signs protesting your weblog. Feel the wrath.
I wanna rabbivark filled with varbabies!
after viewing this excellent photo essay, I feel I must share this link with you.
how babies are made
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