What really happened was this: wanting to avoid having any part of cleaning up a mutant 300 pound giant bunny, I stayed behind at work hoping that Stuart would get home first and clean it up. Evil plan successful. When I walked through the door, he had already steam cleaned the rug and was washing down the floors with bleach.
What Stuart discovered was a tiny wittle baby wabbit, no blood to be found anywhere although the wittle wabbit was without a head, or so I heard.
At some point between receiving the distress call and arriving home, my cute wittle puppy wuppy took the headless wittle wabbit from the family room and brought it into the daughter's room to share with her.
She grabbed some "house tongs" and picked up the dead wittle wabbit and threw him out her window into the garden bed. What are "house tongs"? I had the same query, so I asked her "What are 'house tongs'?"
To which she responded, "You know, those things we use to pick up food."
To which I said, "You mean the salad tongs?" My eyes glanced around the house and I was frozen with terror, "Where are the tongs now?"
"Don't worry, I put them back in the drawer," she says.
"Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! EWWWWWWWWWWWWW! Bluch!!!!!!!!!!!" I scream as I bounce around the kitchen shaking my hands and making vomiting faces.
"There are dead wabbit tongs contaminating my kitchen drawer! Get them out! Get em out!!! Grab me the bleach and throw everything that was in that drawer away now! Just throw away the drawer, we'll get a new kitchen! EWWWWW!!!!!!!"
They just laughed at me and Stuart put the tongs in the dishwasher. Now there are dead wabbit tongs in a dead wabbit dishwasher. The same dishwasher we just bought last Saturday.
Oh my goodness. I just had a realisation. There were dishes in there at the time. Oh my goodness. I have dead wabbit dishes. Ew! Ew! Ew!
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