Story Go Round 11/29/2009, #16

Confessions of a Radioactive Chocolate Easter Bunny

Fun things happened when you put the one thingee in the particle accelerator and then turned on the microwave with the door open.

One time I recall I came across a giant chocolate moose that was being annoyed by a flock of riled up geese. It made me think "wow, this is really something."

When I see geese, I always think, hey! there are a bunch of geese, and I call hey Goose, got my chocolate, and nine times out of ten, the goose actually does have chocolate and then the problem is how to talk him out of it.

Chocolate is the only thing that really works in the particle accelerator to accomplish what I want, but of course, it's hard for me, a fox, to buy chocolate. I have to annoy geese to get it.

What I like about open microwaves is the radiation. I think that's where my brain got changed.

Everyone has an origin story. Some folks stub their toe on radioactive bricks. Others fall into vats of toxic waste. But no one else, as far as I knew, had eaten chocolate accelerated to .999c and lived to tell about it.

From far away, I look like a fox, but up close, it's more like one of those hollow rabbits that kids everywhere devour come springtime.

Being hollow isn't so bad, really — just in case you start to feel bad or something. I store all kinds of things inside me. It's very handy, honestly.

I'm my own purse.

You wouldn't believe some of the stuff I find inside me: pens, napkins, keys that unlock nothing I own, and sometimes gum. Once, I found a hand grenade. Seriously. I'm not sure I even want to know. What might happen if what happened inside the microwave might suddenly happen inside me...

"Ding!" said the microwave, and the carousel inside stopped turning. But there was still movement from within. Curious, I poked my chocolate head, with its tooth-marked ears and candy button eyes, inside.

"Hello," said the pickle.

"Hello," said I, mostly to be polite. Also because I couldn't think of anything else to say. I mean, what do you say when a pickle talks to you?

"My name is Freddy Bob," said the pickle cheerfully. "What's yours?"

"Uh..." See, answering that was a problem, seeing as I didn't really have a name. "Mr. Sox."

"Hello Mr. Socks."

"Sox with an X. Sox that rhymes with fox."

"Oh. Well, I have to say, you look exactly what I would imagine a fox to look like."

I blinked in surprise. "You've never seen a fox before?"

"I'm a pickle," it replied. "We don't see much of anything."

"True... so how can you see me?"

"I'm wearing special contacts. They let me see into the chocolate dimension."

"And the wine world as well?" I asked, taking a leap.

"Well, yes, but the empress is summoning Bacchus now, and I want to be gone before he gets there."

I knew something of summoning myself. But there was one thing missing in all of this.

Then I had it.

We needed a bigger accelerator. There was no way I wanted Bacchus combining chocolate and wine, especially when I was the chocolate in question.

So I put the accelerator in the microwave and turned it on high and then stood in the doorway myself to soak up the rays.

I grew and grew like Alive in Wonderland until I filled the room, smothering the microwave and crushing everything else.

Bacchus tried to manifest, but couldn't fit and I still kept growing until I filled the room and that's the last thing I remember!