While attending a holiday gathering, Lady Bunniful admired some animal-themed headwear designed and created by Olivia, her honorary niece (and Muser-age friend). One might hope a woman of Lady B.’s years and experience, particularly in matters lagomorphic, would exercise caution in approaching any object bearing even the slightest resemblance to winsome, long-eared mammals of rosy hue. Dear Blogger, it grieves me to relate this was not the case at all. No sooner had she noticed the chapeau lapinesque but she clapped it upon her head, Urania save us, not stopping to consider the possible consequences of such an impulsive act. The fact that the hat was indeed exceedingly becoming should have served as further warning rather than the encouragement she took it to be. Folly, thy name is Bunniful.
Within moments her nose began to twitch; her facial muscles tightened; the whites of her eyes became more pronounced.
O dearest MuseBlogger, it distresses me greatly to think what sensations of agony must have twisted within her limbs and consciousness, as once begun, the horrific process known as *shudders violently* bunnification proceeded apace.
Thus might the brief, glorious career of our graphics GAPA have ended in a zombified glaze of hot pink, had not Olivia’s quick wits and leporidal-arts training come to the rescue. The valiant girl, overcoming the horror that would have rooted a lesser soul to the spot, leapt forward and snatched the hat from Lady Bunniful’s head.
Rebecca wishes it known she appears to be well on her way to full recovery and she in no way holds Olivia responsible for the events of Sunday afternoon; indeed, she maintains nothing but gratitude for the quick thinking that prevented certain tragedy.
