Monday, April 2, 2012

Revenge of The Peeps - a Bunny Day story

I wrote this little bit of fluff for the ebook anthology Pink Snowbunnies in Hell, a collection of flash fiction all inspired by the phrase "Pink Snowbunnies will ski in Hell...." The book has lots of humor, fantasy and horror, some poems, and even some serious contemporary literary type stories.

I, however, thought immediately of the lead characters in my mystery The Man Who Did Too Much. The key phrase is definitely something Karla would say, while George might very well question whether snowbunnies were actually all that rare in hell.

So I asked them to present to you this little Easter play, in which they lampoon themselves a bit. (Although Karla would like to assure you that she does own a tiara, clown shoes and even a snow cone machine. And both of them keep nudging me about maybe letting them carry out their plans in a future book....)

* * * * *

Revenge of the Peeps
by Camille LaGuire

"PINK SNOWBUNNIES WILL ski in heck before I--oh, hi, George."

Karla Marquette paused as she entered the diner. She was forty, and wearing a plastic tiara and clown shoes, along with blue jeans, a T-shirt and a beach towel tied around her neck like a cape. No one in the diner, except George, gave her a second glance. It was a small town. People knew what to expect.

George Starling was quite the opposite of Karla. He lurked in the corner of the diner--conservatively dressed in a tailored suit, with a mysterious air, and an even more mysterious accent that wasn't quite English. Folks around town were pretty sure he was a Canadian spy--or maybe hit man--when he wasn't vacationing in Potewa County, and they weren't far wrong.

George looked Karla over and cocked his head.

"All right, I suppose I expect the clown shoes from you, but the tiara?"

"I was fairy godmother at a kids' party today," said Karla, who did odd jobs--emphasis on the odd--for a living. She clomped over to sit opposite him at the little table by the window.

"So what will you not do until after the pink snowbunnies ski in hell? Or was that heck?"

"Hell," said Karla. "Definitely hell. I have to go to a wedding. Tomorrow. I hate family obligations. Did I mention to you how I hate them?"

"Endlessly, but usually you get out of them."

"I'm not going to let Cousin Selia bully me into going, even if it is Jane's wedding...."

George sat up with sudden interest.

"Jane?" he asked. "She's the one I met, isn't she? The timid one with the runaway dog."

Karla nodded. She remembered the incident. George had rescued the dog from traffic--which is something he was wont to do. Rescuing, that is.

"Selia is her mother," said Karla.

"We have to go," said George, urgently. "You have to take me along as a guest."

"No!" said Karla.

"Why not? You like Jane."

"And you hardly know her."

"I rescued her."

"You rescued her dog. You don't have to look after everyone you've ever held a door for."

"Yes, I do," said George simply. "And you haven't answered my question. Why wouldn't you want to go to Jane's wedding?"

"I don't like the groom."

"That's no reason to--"

"I said pink snowbunnies will ski in hell first, and I meant it."

George looked narrowly at her. "Are you sure that pink snowbunnies are all that unusual in hell?"

"They're snow bunnies, George."

"Could be metaphoric. What about those pink marshmallow bunnies at Easter?"

"You mean peeps?"

"Consider how many peeps humans have sent to hell via microwave. Angry vengeful pink bunnies, slaloming along the flames of hell. I'm sure there are lots of them there right now. So you can't get out of it. The bunnies have sailed."

"This wedding is the revenge of the peeps?" said Karla.


"Well, I've never microwaved any peeps in my life. I'm not that mean."

"Original sin. All of mankind must pay."

"Maybe we should invite PETA to the wedding. They could protest."

"Does PETA have a confectionery chapter?"

"They ought to," said Karla. "They could throw powdered sugar and food coloring on the groom."

George paused. "He's really awful, you say?"

"He's a creep, and a bully. Just like her mother. Jane really deserves better."

"Perhaps we should stage an intervention."

"Mom and Dad already tried, with ice cream and everything, but it didn't work."

"Oh," said George. "If she's in love--"

"She isn't! She's afraid of her mom. And she's afraid of Dickie too."

"Dickie?" George sat back in astonishment. "You mean the guy who beat up that workman for spilling paint on his sidewalk?"

"Yep. Dickie Wenswyck."

"And her mother approves?"

"She recruited him."

George was silent for a moment, and then said, with an air of finality, "I must stop this marriage from happening."

Oh, crap, thought Karla, she'd triggered his hero obsession.


"I'll... kidnap the bride. Right from the altar."

"That's a felony, George."

"I promised to help her if she were ever in a jam."

"You can't commit a felony. You'd be deported."

Karla looked hard at George, and he settled back and looked sullen. They both thought for a minute, and then suddenly George cocked his head.

"Has anyone tried an intervention on Dickie?"

"Nice idea, but I think he's immune to ice cream."

"I was thinking more of a dark alley."

"Aggravated assault is a felony too."

"He has a penchant for picking on people. I could lure him into picking a fight with me...."

He drifted off, thinking. Karla thought about how nice it would be if someone like George could clean Dickie's clock, just once. Or it might be more fun if it wasn't someone like George. Someone sweet and little and fluffy and.... Then Karla smiled.

"Did you know I have a pink Easter bunny suit in my closet?" she said.

"Somehow I'm not surprised," said George. "But I don't--"

"Did you know that tonight is Dickie's bachelor party?"

"Not surprised about that either."

"He'll be drunk, and he'll probably be very high by the wee hours of the morning. And if he isn't, everyone will think he was. Nobody will believe him."

"Believe him about what?"

"The peeps!" she said, grinning. "Imagine a dark alley, he's stumbling home, and then BAM, something hits him. It's cold. A snow ball on a warm summer night. He's freaked out--"

"Where do we get snow?"

"I have a snow cone machine," she said, waving him off so she could continue her story. "Then, two furry monsters with floppy ears and large incisors step out of the dark, like Harvey on steroids. Or maybe like Dirty Harry...."

"Dirty Harvey?"

"Right. And they proceed to convince Dickie to skip the wedding. Or they break his knees if he doesn't.... Do you break knees? Or just fingers?"

"I can do either, but isn't it still a felony?"

"Sure, but they won't be looking for you. They'll be looking for pink snowbunnies from hell. It's the perfect crime!"

The End

* * * * *
If you enjoyed this little holiday sketch, you might check out Pink Snowbunnies in Hell anthology -- 20 flash fiction stories for only a buck (proceeds go to animal rescue organizations).

Get it at for Kindle, or at Barnes & Noble for Nook, or in other formats at Smashwords.

You may also enjoy George and Karla being slightly more serious in their first mystery novel The Man Who Did Too Much. Available for Kindle, Nook, and at Smashwords.

No comments: