Papa Rabbit enjoyed a toke from time to time. He’d sneak away to his little man cave in the garage, gather up his paraphernalia (lighter in the toolbox next to the screwdrivers, pipe in the cupboard behind the paint, and marijuana tucked behind a crack in the drywall), and kick back in his bench, bathed in sunlight from a small window over the bench. At least for a moment, all his worries would disappear, as if they were…smoke. Sober, he was plagued with anxiety about Juniper’s poor grades, Misletoe’s pregnancy, or…
”Papa…?”
There stood my beautiful baby boy, Wopooing. The newest addition to our growing family, I had just learned his name yesterday; he was born on Wednesday while I was away at Home Depot.
It’s difficult keeping track of so many kids, 73 and counting (or is it 77?). To the naked eye, all rabbits are naked. But to the rabbits, they all looked different. Papa did his best to make a mental note of these differences in order to keep track of his children. Tabletop was born with a patch of black hair on his back, Candle has a short leg, and Wopooing has an enormous schlong. Upon first seeing him…and seeing *it*…Papa Rabbit couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear with tremendous pride.
Papa also worried for Wopooing. Having a penis that large was a danger for rabbits. Forget the hygienic issues, with his penis always lying in the dirt, getting mud and grass clippings on it, but it made one more vulnerable to prey, not only because one is less mobile, but it’s like a lizard tail, just waiting to get gnawed off by a coyote or hawk. This happened to a neighbor’s boy awhile back: like the Greek God Narcissus staring at himself in the water, the neighbor boy was constantly flopping his penis around with excessive pride, the next thing you know, a hawk swooped down and grabbed him by *it*. Some other rabbits yelled out “Cut off your own penis! That’s your only hope!!!”. The boy refused, choosing death over a life with a half a penis.
Wopooing had a concerned look on his face, with a towel around his waist; rabbits don’t wear clothes, and this unusual behavior struck Papa as peculiar. “Can I talk to you Papa?”
“Of course son, what is it?”
“Something’s happening to me, and I don’t know what it is. I’m scared. There’s something under my towel.”
“What is it son; you can show me, don’t be afraid.” Wopooing removed his towel, and there…basking in the afternoon sunlight…was an enormous, glistening erection. For a moment, I beamed with pride. But I was torn, as I knew Wopooing’s blessing was also a curse.
“What is it papa? It scares me.”
It scares Papa! Imagine being on the receiving end of that steamboat?!? I quickly gathered my thoughts. “Son, that’s called a rabbit penis, and what you’re having is a rabbit erection. It’s totally normal. All penises are different. Some seem to be discolored, far darker than the owner of the penis, like it’s been burnt in a fire or something. Some are thicker in the middle, like a snake that swallowed an egg. Some have a thick beard of black hair, and others have practically no hair at all. And some…like yours my dear son…are far bigger than everyone else’s. It’s neither a blessing or a curse. Best to see it as a gift, that can either be harnessed for good, or an instrument of evil. Do you remember how it happened?”
“Mama was helping me get dressed, she bent over, and her hair draped over me, and I looked down her top. I saw two fleshy protrusions, and then it just happened.”
Papa Rabbit shuttered at the idea of Wopooing being turned on by his own mother. But Papa also knew this was totally normal adolescent behavior.
“That’s perfectly normal my dear Wopooing. Someday you may want to touch it, then touch it more, then even more, until you’re rubbing it vigorously. This is perfectly normal, too. But it is never okay to do this around other people. If you ever find that you’re overcome by the desire to touch yourself, politely ask to be excused, find some privacy, and go ahead and whale away on yourself. Feel free to wash your hands after. And when you come back, we’ll pretend like we have no idea what happened.”
“Thanks Papa. You’re the best Papa ever.”Papa kissed Wopooing on the forehead, and sent him on his way. These are the moments that make life worth living. Yes, sometimes Papa gets stressed, and raising 73 (or is it 77?) kids is hard. But Papa wouldn’t change it for anything. Papa hit the pipe two more times as he sat in the warm sun. “Yes, indeed.” Papa thought to himself, “Mama Rabbit really does have some glorious breasts.”