Apparently, Buster the Bunny was a HUGE Digital Underground fan

Do the Humpty Hump

I had the unique displeasure of watching a rabbit go to town on my slippered foot this evening.

Buster, my rabbit-friend who is taking a vacation from his daddies while one daddy is in Ghana and other daddy is biking across the country, is currently in love with my foot. Via my slipper.

I was sitting on the floor in shorts and slippers with my feet flexed watching some "Good Eats" on the Food Network while I slipped out of my "drrrr spreadsheets" coma. I was watching him make pad Thai with renewing vigor when I sensed some OTHER renewed "vigor".

There was Buster, holding onto my toes for dear life while he pounded away at the ball of my slippered foot. I couldn't shake him off. I was frozen-- staring at this creature hammer away like he was an awkward teenager who was mistaking speed with skill, while I watched my foot pray for this drunken mistake to just END ALREADY. In about 15 seconds it was all over. For the time being.

A wave of emotions washed over me. I went through the normal cycle.

Guilt.
Violation.
Shame.
Pride.
No, no. NO PRIDE.
ONLY GUILT.

Buster has two daddies who are raising him to be an open-minded, worldly, and knowledgeable citizen of the world. And then my Catholic upbringing realized that I HAD HELPED THIS RABBIT GET OFF. Being paralyzed by the horrified fascination of this rabbit mistaking MY FOOT for a foxy lady rabbit had inadvertently gotten him hooked. Apparently, my neon green slipper is a machine in the sack, because that was it for him-- the deal was sealed. He became more adventurous-- different positions, different speed, you get the picture.

I'd like to thank a friend for giving me this slippers. I'd like to thank my mom for the yarn that I stuffed into the toe after my foot was rammed the first time so hard that I felt like I should start charging this fellow and we should share a celebratory cigarette. I wore these slippers religiously for over a year, and I am sad to see that they met their whorish demise. At least until I can wash them a few times.

Then he tried the same deal with my ankle. Up on his hind legs with a good grip on my calf muscle. That got him put back into his cage. I was raised Catholic enough to laugh after the fact, not be ok with Rabbit-to-skin contact. I can't help a brother out THAT MUCH.

Now that my slippers have been deflowered by a rabbit with two daddies who clearly HAVE TAUGHT HIM WELL, it's at least helpful to look at the positives. Apparently, he's a five-minute-man, but at least he owes the slippers the courtesy of multiple lovemaking sessions. Kudos, gentleman. You are raising the boy right.