"JUST BUY A DAMN BUNNY," said the tremulous voice of the shopkeeper to the vapid hamster fetishists. Their faces contorted and twisted like the undulating contents of lava lamps into shapes vaguely reminiscent of surprise. A few patrons looked around, astonished, and even the old man himself was surprised by his outburst. Yet, he pointedly did not apologize, trying instead to brush over his ejaculation with the promise of free miniature sailor costumes. For there was something he desperately feared even more than social indiscretion--the discovery of his extensive femur collection in the cellar.
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