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Here comes Peter Cottontail
Hopping down the bunny trail,
Hippity-hoppity,
Easters on its way!
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Bringing every girl and boy,
Baskets full of Easter joy,
Hippity-hoppity,
Easters on its way!160Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQAt5saQiIX
"Peter! Are you ready?" Peter's mother calls, packing up his basket so he can go do his yearly rounds.
"Almost, mom," he hops down the stairs, proudly showing off his new easter vest and bowtie. "How do I look?" he asks. His mother doesn't say anything, but a tear falls from her eyes.
"You look all grown up," she says, holding him close in her warm, motherly embrace. "Just like your father." Peter's father and siblings had all been killed by hunters years ago, leaving just Peter and his mother to care for each other. For a while, Peter was buried in anger and hatred for the humans, but his mother saw that not all of them were evil. She, after a while, convinced Peter to forgive them, and they began the yearly tradition of bringing gifts to the young boys and girls of the nearby town.
"All right mom, I've got to get started," chuckles Peter, finding his mother's sentiment sweet, yet a little uncomfortable. She finally lets him go, and hands him his basket, imploring him to be safe. "Yeah, yeah, I know mom."
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Meanwhile, in the town, the hunter (the same hunter who had killed the rest of the Cottontails) plots just how he's going to catch the last two rabbits. He knows that Peter makes the yearly trip to the village to deliver the treats to the children. His plan is to follow Peter back to their burrow, so he can finally kill the remaining rabbits once and for all. No one really knows why he had such an aversion to rabbits, but some say they ate his prized tomatoes, or they dug a hole under his fence, the hole that allowed to wolf to get into his yard and kill his baby daughter who had been sleeping peacefully.
Peter carefully delivered the treats, watching for any sign of life, but no one was awake yet in these early hours of the Easter day. At least, that's what he thought. The hunter watched him from the confines of his house, hiding carefully behind his curtains. Peter finishes his deliveries, and leaves the town as quietly as he had come. Little did he know, not far behind him, the hunter crept, carrying his gun and a cage. The hunter wanted them to suffer, the last two deserved to suffer just as he did. He would make the mother watch as his scientist friend tortured her child. His friend had been asking him to catch a test rabbit for a while now. What better way to get his sweet revenge?
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"Peter? How did it go?" Mrs. Cottontail asks, taking the now empty basket from Peter.
"Oh, the same as every year, no one was awake yet, so I was able to finish quickly."
"Well that's good, come, eat breakfast, I made your favorite--" she screams as something grabs her by the leg and drags her out of the burrow. Peter tries to grab her, gripping onto her apron, but he is dragged out of the burrow as well. Peter feels a human hand grip around his neck tightly, not enough to kill him, but enough that he couldn't breathe without straining, he claws at the strong hand, but it's no use. As his eyes adjust to being snatched out of the dark burrow and thrust into the glaringly bright sun, he sees the hunter's hideous face sneering at him, just before being dropped into a cage, landing on top of his poor, quivering mother and hitting his head on the hard metal floor, knocking him out cold.
When Peter wakes up, all he sees is a blaring light in his face. He has been stripped of his new Easter vest and bowtie, and is strapped to a cold, metal operating table. His heart races as he looks around, taking in the sterile lab around him, the tool table laid out with a wide assortment of terrifying scalpels and syringes filled with unnamable colorful chemicals, the cages stacked on a nearby shelf, empty but for a white rabbit--his mother! He remembers how he got there: the hunter, the cage... He tries to pull against the restraints, but its no use. Before he knows it, a human in a white coat walks into the lab, circling Peter like a vulture does roadkill. His glasses-covered eyes roam over him, making Peter shudder-- he doesn't remember anything after that, because he passes out from fright.
Months of torture later, Peter finally dies. His mother had died not long after they were captured, having been forced to witness her son screaming while he is injected with chemicals, exposed to radiation, and operated on without anesthesia. The scientist had created a monster out of Peter. There was no more cute little rabbit, but a 7 foot creature with an eight pack, bulging muscles, and sharp fangs-- the only identifying traits left of the bunny being the long ears and once fluffy tail.
One of the scientist's interns decided that Peter had become to dangerous, so when the scientist wasn't looking, he slipped poison into Peter's food, ending everything. The scientist was outraged when he found out that his prize beast had been sabotaged. It didn't take long for him to discover what they intern had done. He flew into a rage and murdered him...When he realized what he had done, he set fire to the lab, destroying any evidence of the murder, and coincidentally, any evidence of the horrors that had happened to poor Peter. The scientist started the fire, and never looked back, but maybe he should have...160Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9l5LhJ0rvo
In the midst of the fire, a vial fell from a shelf, shattering and releasing a gas into the air. The mysterious chemical wafted through the air, red tendrils of smoke wisping through the burning building, finally reaching the open cage where Peter's body lay. The smoke and fames flared around him, singeing his dirty coat; the red gas travelled towards his crumpled form, circling around his chipped ears and wafting in front of his un-breathing nose. Suddenly, Peter's eyes flew open, glowing red. He sprung up, hatred and anger burning in his eyes, almost as bright as the flames around him. He smashed open a nearby emergency fire axe case, sending glass shards flying. He slashed through the crumbling building and disappeared into the night.
No one has heard from him since, but it has been said, on dark easter nights, he can be heard hopping through the streets, swinging his axe. And if you're not careful, you might just end up like the scientist who was found headless in the street with an Easter egg tucked in his hand. 160Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoeFB06Onds
Here comes Peter Cottontail,
Leaving behind a bloody trail,
Chippety-choppety,
Peter’s on his way!
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Terrorizing all the land,
With an axe right in his hand,
Chippety-choppety,
Peter’s on his way!160Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAkgLFcpAmq
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(sorry if this is rough, i didn't have the patience to edit it.)
ns 15.158.61.8da2
