After trying to gently brace my editors at DSP for the fact that I may be working on some non-DSP projects starting in the summer, I was threatened (gently, and we shall not name who did the threatening) with the possibility of somebody feeding my plotbunnies radioactive chocolate carrots.
She did not tell me that she’d ALREADY DONE THIS, and I blame the following weirdness on her:
Rise of the Plotbunnies
Plotbunnies on the ceiling,
Plotbunnies on the couch,
Plotbunnies falling sinfully
From Jensen Ackles pouty mouth…
Plotbunnies under the table
Plotbunnies in my head.
Plotbunnies humping incessantly–
Who’s keeping them well fed?
All I did was do some shopping,
For some bread and chocolate milk–
I forgot the bread and brought home instead
A plotbunny for this filk!
That plotbunny brought a brother,
And that’s when things went really south…
They humped each other’s brains out
While watching “Supernatural” on the couch.
I did not know with this breed
Of bunnies logic failed–
Both bunnies turned up pregnant
And BOTH OF THEM WERE MALE!
My husband took me to a ball game
To escape m/m romance with some sport…
The bastards and their families
Got busy humping ON THE COURT!
I thought the dustbunnies would up and kill them
Let natural selection run it’s course.
The dustbunnies lost, but left in their wake
Dustbunny corpses by the score.
So there’s no room for all the plotbunnies,
I’m singing the over-plot-ulation blues…
And a family of bunnies is singing harmony
While HUMPING ON MY SHOES!
I’ve got plotbunnies in my knitting,
Plotbunnies on kitchen shelves,
In an effort to stem the plotbunny tide,
I asked my editor for some help.
She said, “Sure, I’d be glad to help you!”
But I think the woman lied.
I found in my fridge a carrot cocktail
Of Viagra and Spanish Fly!
I’ve got plotbunnies in my laundry,
And peeking out from under the bed,
The ones under the bed look wicked,
And especially well fed.
My only hope is my writing dragon,
Who snorts in my head and roars,
“I’m hungry bitch, come feed me,
HUMPING PLOTBUNNIES BY THE SCORE!”
And still they’re busting from cages,
From dirty dishes and dusty halls.
Some are big as 240K,
And others are quite small.
Oh help me with my plotbunnies,
They’re running sort of rife…
A story that started w/two guys and a cat
Has taken over my whole life.
My parents offered me a ‘Practicality Gun’–
And told me to point and shoot…
But crooning or zooming or snuggling or grooming
Or cuddling or noodling or fluffing or boodling
Or running or jumping or flirting or humping
The fact is the gun is moot.
I cannot load the goddamned gun.
The humping bunnies are too damned cute.
*Honestly, it’s been sort of a depressing two days… take the filk and run with it folks, it’s as happy as it’s gonna get tonight:-)