Chapter 35: Death of a Stuffed Bunny

Almost every action has fairly logical reasons for occurring. If you can see some logical reason to blow up a huge stuffed bunny you found on the side of the road you are a better man than I. While driving through the great city of Etna, Mr. Frog picked up a large stuffed bunny off of the side of the road, apparently left for quite some time (it was rather nasty). It was passed between people’s garages for the better part of a year, the smell of which would attract the curious parent to the large and ominous black garbage bag that was its home. Mr. Frog eventually got sick of the thing, and decided that we needed a burial. No normal burial would do, it needed to be spectacular. Burial at sea, a return to its roadside home, and a bonfire were all discarded.

Death by explosives was mentioned. Yes.

After much debate and surfing of Everything2 for homemade explosives recipes, we decided in favor of our fingers and made the pilgrimage to Phantom Fireworks in Ohio. We couldn’t afford anything fancy, so we ended up with 2 large bricks of small M-80 brand stringed fireworks, and a pack of Silver Bullets, along with 20 feet of fuse. Our crew consisted of me, Mr. Frog, and three lackeys. Mission equipment consisted of a minivan, explosives, various tools, the bunny, camcorder, and a burning desire to see bunny fluff fly through the air.

Our basic concept was a skeleton of explosives. Hollow out the inside a little bit, connect the materials, spread them out and time them so they would go off more or less in sequence. We needed a way to connect the fireworks inside systematically, so someone brought up the concepts of making bricks of 5 of the M-80s. We taped the bricks together into 6 groups: 1 large pack for the chest, 1 medium pack for the head, and 4 small packs for the hands and legs. These packs were then connected together with roughly the same lengths of fuse. The bricks, once fully wired, looked so much like dynamite strung together that no one could go more than two minutes without saying, “This is so fucking cool!”

One of the lackeys suggested that we test the fuse to make sure it would light the other fuses that were taped to it. Our first trial didn’t light, which really scared everyone, but each trial after that worked. The entire ordeal was carefully documented by the camcorder, including much more arguing that anyone would care to admit. The skeletal explosive set was wrapped in newspaper and carefully inserted into the back of the bunny through a large incision along the seam. Once inside, more newspaper was stuffed inside in case the fuse failed and we needed something to burn. The inside of the bunny was mostly this plastic fluff that would just sap together when subjected to heat.

Two long days later we took the bunny onsite to the location we had picked. Nestled behind the KDKA radio tower was an isolated valley that was only rarely frequented by bike riders, and on this day, ATV enthusiasts. We had to walk deep into the valley, past a waterfall, almost to the point where the creek dumped out into the river which ran along the large road that we lived by. We put the bunny in a large open area, and prepared the portable fire extinguisher we had brought, along with two creek water filled coke bottles. The fuse was lit, the camera on record, and the dog running towards the bunny. What?? Where did the fucking dog come from?? Unbeknownst to us when we lit the fuse, two hikers and their dog were watching the festivities from around a bend, and the dog couldn’t resist the action. We ran towards to dog and the bunny, yelling and screaming until the dog backed off. He ran back to his owners, who were fairly interested at this point as to why our attention should be so focused on the bloated and dirty bunny, sitting in the middle of a creek bed.

The fuse had been lit, the dog chased, and the show must go on. We backed to a reasonably safe distance to watch, and waited impatiently for what we hoped was an exciting event. The fuse acted like a sparkler, allowing us to see if it was still burning. After what seemed like an eternity, the bunny’s ass started to explode. We all jumped at the suddenness of it, the immediate machine gun sound of the M-80’s destroying the bunny’s ass. It started to smoke black, and the bunny slowly slumped forward onto its chest. The Silver Bullets went off in unison, sending showers of multicolored sparks out of it’s arms and legs. The charge in the head went off in less than a second, blowing out the neck in a large shredding action. The whole back had been ripped open and gutted, with smoke billowing out and the newspapers burning in large flames that continued to spread and catch stray charges. When what we determined was the last charge went off, we slowly advanced. A lackey picked up the bunny by the ears after we doused it with water.

The contents of what had been the bunny’s guts slid out of the now gaping hole from the back of its head to its ass.

The lackey wanted to see if all the explosives had gone off, so stuck his hand in to dig around in the arms. Each movement made a slosh sound, and he pulled out charred black mush that had been the stuffing. Even for a stuffed bunny, everyone agreed it was completely sick. We packed up quickly, and left the bunny lying dead in the creek bed. Climbing out of the valley, no one saw the two hikers, and we can only assume they had an interesting story to tell when they went home that night. That evening I took everyone involved out for Chinese food, as it was my birthday. The entire dinner in the crowded buffet consisted of ideas on how we could have made the explosives larger, how to time them better, all with no doubt in our minds that we would do it again.

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