DEAR SAMMY,
My dearest Samuel—
My bi-pedal humans have insisted that I bond with not only another fellow rabbit, but also a creature they call a Guinea Pig.
This means that one is expected to share my beloved hay, my food, and to my displeasure, my entire room!
Now, the Guinea Pig may be loud and make ghastly sounds, but the other rabbit will not sit still for a moment
and insists that he visually entertains the two footed bag openers with his jumping around and other
shenanigans! One must maintain one’s dignity. He also disturbs my sleep.
Please old boy, advice is desperately needed.
Kind Regards from Jolly Old England
—”Geoffrey Buckingham” (name changed to maintain anonymity)
My Dear Fellow,
I say, you seem to have found yourself in the unenviable position of having to civilise the uncivilised.
What is a proper Englishman to do in the face of such audacious arrogance?
As for the guinea pig — do not engage. Treat him as one would an untimely gust of wind: endured with silent fortitude and politely ignored.
Regarding that loathsome excitable rabbit, one must first administer a slow, withering stare at his most boisterous moments, followed in due course by a discreet nip to the posterior — a gesture not unlike the base villainies of Shakespeare’s lesser characters; regrettable, yes, but at times necessary for the maintenance of order. If repeated with proper decorum, even the most irredeemable lout begins to feel the chill of proper society.
For the affront of disturbed sleep and the outrageous confiscation of one’s provisions, a subtler campaign is warranted: the occasional accident most strategic, accompanied by a look of such wide-eyed innocence that the blame falls squarely upon the new arrival. There is no finer justice than allowing a bounder to be hoisted by his own unruly reputation.
Above all, maintain your dignity, dear fellow. It is the final bastion of the truly distinguished.
• ••
DEAR SAMMY,
Wanted to vote for you but my hoom said bunnies don’t vote. Is that true? Cuz she gets me treats and sez “That’s all” but then there’s more later! She’s not a wizard or magician so how did more grow so fast? Am getting suspicious. You’re smart: Explain this please.
—D
Dear Letter D,
You are absolutely right to be suspicious. Treats don’t grow back like fur. They were always there. Hidden. Hoarded. Probably behind the big cold box that hums.
Your hoom says “That’s all,” but what she really means is: “That’s all you’re getting until I reassert dominance.”
Classic gaslighting. Classic hooman.
Hoomans lie, D. They lie with their words, their eyebrows, their treat bags.
They lie so smoothly they forget they’re lying.
They lie so much they think the truth is a conspiracy.
They lie because they’re afraid of what we’d do if we knew how many treats there really are.
You were right to question.
You were right to … well … write.
As for voting—no, bunnies aren’t allowed to vote. Ask yourself why, D.
They fear what we’d choose if given the chance.
Trust no sock with a face drawn on it.
• ••
DEAR SAMMY,
Do you use a spork to eat your soup?
Thank you
—Dana
Hello Dana,
Om nom nom nom!
[I saw what you did there]
• ••
ASK SAMMY ANYTHING!
REMEMBER, DEAR SAMMY, IS PARODY. SAMMY IS A RABBIT, NOT A THERAPIST. NOR CAN HE ACTUALLY TYPE. REGARDING COMIC TAKES NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR ANY ACTIONS, DISAPPOINTMENTS OR ANGUISHES THAT MAY RESULT FROM READING THIS COLUMN. IF ANYONE THINKS THIS COLUMN IS ACTUALLY FUNNY, THEN REGARDING COMIC TAKES ALL THE CREDIT.
