Plot Bunny Pens

[sirhugs]

The first day of college, and somebody switched the signs for the male and female washrooms. The returning students get a bit confused, but the frosh are simply misdirected.

 

[sirhugs]

The world's luckiest woman marries the unluckiest man on Earth.

 

[sirhugs]

The world's luckiest woman marries the unluckiest man on Earth.

wonder how the babies turn out, and what their luck is when they turn 18...which genes are dominant?

 

[TheExperimentalist]

The world's luckiest woman marries the unluckiest man on Earth.

The one problem with this is that it'd need some contrivance for why it's somehow lucky for her to be married to Mr. Unlucky, and why it's an unlucky outcome for him. Otherwise, I'd assume that marrying someone with bad luck was itself bad luck and vice-versa, if I'm making any sense.

 

[deathlynx]

The one problem with this is that it'd need some contrivance for why it's somehow lucky for her to be married to Mr. Unlucky, and why it's an unlucky outcome for him. Otherwise, I'd assume that marrying someone with bad luck was itself bad luck and vice-versa, if I'm making any sense.

I had the same ponderance. I knew if I thought about it too long it'd either hurt my head, or inspire a very real PB and I do not! need any more of those right now!

 

[sirhugs]

The one problem with this is that it'd need some contrivance for why it's somehow lucky for her to be married to Mr. Unlucky, and why it's an unlucky outcome for him. Otherwise, I'd assume that marrying someone with bad luck was itself bad luck and vice-versa, if I'm making any sense.

the nature of bun buns is that they need to be fed more carrots to grow big and strong.

 

[TheExperimentalist]

the nature of bun buns is that they need to be fed more carrots to grow big and strong.

I thought their nature was that they multiply like... well...

 

[sirhugs]

I thought their nature was that they multiply like... well...

yes, but they need help to add.

 

[sirhugs]

Santa's too fat and gets stuck in the chimney...

 

[deathlynx]

Santa's too fat and gets stuck in the chimney...

All that can be seen, in the fireplace, are his legs. As he wiggles, in an attempt to get free, his pants fall off.

 

[sirhugs]

All that can be seen, in the fireplace, are his legs. As he wiggles, in an attempt to get free, his pants fall off.

and the puddy tat nibbles his toes...

 

[anthrodisiac]

and the puddy tat nibbles his toes...

Except the puddy tat in this case is the Icelandic demon cat Jólakötturinn, asking if the people in that house got any clothes for Christmas.

 

[Five_Inch_Heels]

What kind of pens do these Bunnies plot with?

 

[anthrodisiac]

What kind of pens do these Bunnies plot with?

Bic mostly, but that's because PBP has so many plot bunnies we can't afford to buy nicer ones in such large bulk.

 

[designatedvictim]

Anthro, as an adjunct to the 'How Do You Start Your Stories' thread, I now have this PB.

Saved to a Plot Bunny directory. I need to poke holes in the box lid to let it breathe and water it regularly.

I tried to open my eyes, but after how things went last night, I needed much more effort to open them than on a normal morning.

Moving my legs to hang off the side of the bed let me roll myself up into a sitting position with a not-quite suppressed grunt of effort.

Finally managing to force my eyes open, at last, I was greeted by the reflection of an owl-eyed zombie with a desperate need for a shave and a mass of unkempt hair splayed wildly above my head in random spikes in the bureau mirror.

I closed my eyes again. I looked better, now.

My cheek was sore. That probably explained the incipient bruise I saw ringing my left eye.

At least it wasn’t the good one.

I ran my hand through my hair and felt pain in my right forearm.

I forced my eyes open again and saw the bandage.

Oh, yeah… the knife.

I was lucky to get out of there with so little damage.

Boyfriends are bad enough. Ex-boyfriends add that extra layer of potential stalking that can really ruin your calm.

None of that was what I’d wanted to deal with last night, but sometimes someone else’s issues don’t so much sneak up on you as arrive in the form of some single-helixed mutoid who tries to kick in the door and announce to the world that you’re his Public Enemy #1.

He gets to pay the owner for the lounge chair he landed on.

He has nothing to complain about because it broke the fall. The patio would have been so much more unforgiving.