Every day, when I go into the Bunny Barn to check on its' citizens, it is the same thing. Day in, day out, a chorus of rabbity complaints and queries.
"Don't we look cute? Look, look! Did you see my back flip? Didja? Didja?
Hey, when are you going to feed us? Huh, huh?"
("You aren't really going to eat us, are you?!?")
"Ich bin nicht fett. Es ist einfach ein wattle. Jetzt erhalten sie mich mehr essen."
(Magda speaks German, because she is Amish. Translated, this means:
"I am not fat. It is a wattle. Now, get me more food."
A wattle. Sure, Magda, I believe you.)
"Why, why, oh why, must it be so hot? I'm pregnant and these hot flashes are killing me!"
"Bring. Me. A. Woman. Now."
"Seriously. Bring me a woman. And a cigarette."
"Hey, I'd like a woman, too! But first, I want a haircut. And an eclair.
"Oh no, it's looking at me again. It's looking at me!! Help! Help me, someone! Please!!
Oh no....it's going to touch me. HELLLLP!
Wait. It's producing food. Ok, it's ok everybody. I'm fine now."
Every freakin' day it is like this.