This evening I am greeted by the view of my muse crouched down and peeking behind the couch. Suddenly he throws himself forward and makes a grab for ... what? A shadow slips through his fingers and darts from the room. With a growl my muse rises and dusts off his hands.
"What happened?" His head snaps around; obviously he hasn't noticed me before. A rare occurrence. Usually he pounces on me as soon as I open the door.
"The plot bunny got loose yesterday. Now it doesn't let me catch it."
"No wonder. Don't look at me so, Rhade. I remember your handling of the poor thing."
"It's a plot bunny. It has to be though or it doesn't get written."
"Probably," I concede. "But it doesn't matter. I want to write something different." He is surprised, again.
"Remember yesterday," I continue. Now wariness replaces his surprise. "You gave me permission to hurt you. And I have found the right bunny for you." I open my hand to show him the tiny bunny on my palm. Actually, it looks more like a miniature porcupine.
With a quick motion I flick the bunny over to him. He catches it reflexively and curses promptly. Blood trickles. The porcupine bunny hisses and bristles.
I have to give him that, he takes his responsibilities serious. He doesn't drop it, but handles it with great care to examine it.
"Exile, embarrassment, hopeless fight. You expect much from this little thing. One turning point in the life of Anvar. I will survive then?"
"You will prevail. At first it looked like a PWP bunny to me, but it offers the perfect opportunity to teach young Anvar an useful lesson. Are you game for it?"
"It sounds interesting enough, doesn't it? So the motto seems to be 'What doesn't kill you...'"
"Exactly." He eyes me sardonically.
"You feel considerable better than yesterday, correct?"