The town of Slackjaw, South Dakota has seen its share of hard times. It’s been pummeled by summer thunderstorms, has skirted swarms of tornadoes and has faced winter blizzards.

But when a sinkhole opened on Main Street, sucking up six cars and the local farmer’s market, the town instinctively knew it was facing a new kind of challenge. Says Mayor Carl LaFong, “It was sheer chaos. We couldn’t even see the cars down there. It was like looking into a hole leading to the center of the Earth.”

Trying to make sense of it, he called upon Geologist Sam Bisbee to assess the scene. “The first thing I noticed,” Bisbee recalls, “is that this was just nuts. There were no geographical faults near the scene. The soil seemed to be in good shape. There was no reason for any type of erosion.”

Then, he noticed the pellets. “I discovered mounds of basketball-sized pellets all around the area. I come from a farm in Iowa and we had rabbits. These looked like rabbit pellets. Rabbit pellets from very big rabbits. I knew, then, that this wasn’t a sinkhole, it was a rabbit hole. This was an entrance to a large rabbit burrow.”

Mayor LaFong was dubious. “I told him he was a full-of-shit liberal,” says the Mayor, “but to play it safe, I contacted world-renowned Cuniculturist, John Charles Bunny.”

Bunny hopped at the chance to investigate. “I knew you were going to write that,” he sighs. “Any other ones you want to get out of your system?”

He stares at WWN hard, his nose twitching. “Aw, jeez,” he simmers. “Like I don’t get enough abuse.”


Bunny investigated the scene and confirmed the hole was indeed a rabbit burrow and that the pellets were a dead giveaway. “When rabbits poop, they produce two types of poop. The first poop is the food going right through them and coming out the other side, only partially digested. They, then, eat their poop, fully digest it, and pop out the pellets. Just think of the rabbits as politicians. They eat their own crappy statements when called out on them and, then, later, reframe them and toss them back out to the press.

“Plus, they went after the farmers’ market. Rabbits are herbivores and eat produce like crazy.”

Then, a series of hop-by smash and grab robberies began. “Every market had their produce areas cleaned out,” says the Mayor. “I called in the cops.”

Police Chief Harlan Bisque picks up the story. “Local farmers began finding entire fields disappearing, eaten. But we hadn’t had a giant rabbit sighting. We couldn’t prove anything. Then, we caught a break.”

A giant rabbit burst forth on the other side of town and landed on the highway. “Witnesses say this rabbit just flew onto the highway. It was hit by a big-rig and decimated. I didn’t know what to do. We cleaned the place up and the town had free rabbit stew for two weeks. Hey, times are hard. Free grub is free grub.”


The second exit from the burrow was plugged up and the Chief took his place outside the original sinkhole, armed with an AK-47. “John Charles Bunny told me that rabbits like to eat in the afternoon, so I sat in an armored vehicle with ammo to spare. Sure enough, that afternoon, this big bunny emerged. It was the size of a VW van. Emerging from the vehicle, I raised my gun, aimed it right above its adorable eyes and…was attacked by about fifty crying children. Kids love bunnies. I lowered my weapon.

“The kids begged their parents to buy them vegetables, so they could feed the bunny. They’ve been doing that for a week, now. I mean, it’s a boost to our economy because veggies tend to under-perform out here in terms of sales. It’s kind of cute in an acid-flashback way. The kids have been home-quarantined for such a long time, it was good to see them wearing masks and uniting for something.”

“Right now,” the Mayor says, “things are okay. But what if there are more rabbits down there? If they breed? This entire town could wind up, literally, going down the rabbit hole.”


To end the situation and save the Police Chief the lamentations of dozens of children, the Mayor has contacted an expert in rabbit hunting. “His name is Theodore Fudd,” the Mayor reveals. “He said his father, Elmer, was a famous rabbit hunter and he’d live up to his father’s name.”

At that point, a flatbed truck pulls up, loaded with crates. WWN inquires as to the crates’ origins. “Oh,” the Mayor says, “Fudd said he’d be sending out his equipment before his arrival.”

WWN glances at the crates. There are boxes of Acme Co. TNT, Acme anvils and various fuses.

“I can breathe easy, now,” sighs the Mayor. “We’re in the hands of experts.”

Suddenly, a roadrunner darts across Main Street and into the rabbit hole. The Mayor shrugs. “We’ve had more and more of those birds showing up in the last week. I take it as a good sign.”


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