rabbit: it’s a monument

I know I haven’t said anything before, but my pet spider began talking to me last week. Sometime around two in the morning last Sunday, I realized that my computer tower isn’t the source of that murmur I’ve been bitching about, it’s really been coming from the aquarium on the shelf next to it. You know when you get tired, sometimes you have these ridiculous ideas? Mine was something like, “How cute, it almost looks like Draco’s talking with his hands” Duh – idiot me. Turns out he was.
Remember I accidentally dropped him when I went to clean his cage? I felt terrible guilty about the whole thing. Like what sort of person am I to drop my pet with an audible clunk, you know? But it seems that I rattled something in his head the right way round, because now he can whisper his thoughts out loud. It’s not very good, heavily accented or something, but I’m pretty proud of him. His eyesight is terrible, it means he can’t read or anything, so I’ve started reading to him. We’re going through the Narnia Series right now. I thought he’d like it for the talking animals but instead we’ve been talking about the underlying themes. I feel like I’m back in high-school or something, doing that Onion thing. We watch little movies together too. That’s sort of why I’m finally talking about this.

Last night someone sent me this cute little movie called Everyone Has More Sex Than Me and we got to talking about the stupid mating habits of our species. I think I said something like, “Oh come on – if a rabbit could sing like that, he’d totally get laid.” and Draco pointed out that singing might not be attractive in such a case. That’s where it got a little weird, because next thing he says is that he finds me pretty attractive, in spite of not being a spider and everything and I didn’t really know what to do with that. Has anyone got any ideas? I really like him, but I think I want to just keep him as a friend. How can I say anything without being, you know, mean?

rabbit: oh my love

I woke her up this morning by sliding inside of her. I took her quietly from behind, slipping my hands between her thighs and starting slowly. She moaned before she woke, the sun fire lighting the sky. I like days like this. I love her green hair and her dark brown eyes, her eleven fingers, the way she paints her weekly henna. I rhapsodize about it, I’m sorry. You always have to hear of her, I know. She’ll be going back to the colony soon. I’m going to really miss her. It’s hard when she’s away. I lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling and dreaming of her tongue dripping ice-water on to my belly by candlelight. That was my favourite anniversary. When we celebrated spur of the moment with a picnic basket and a beachside fire. The ice-bucket with wine had been my idea and the marshmallows on sticks was hers. Sand and silk, clear liquid and hot fire. It was glorious with the stars above singing to us. The salt water ocean delicious on her lips, I licked every drop of water off her body. She’s in the shower now, she’d blush if she knew I was writing this. It’s my little secret, this journal.