Plot bunnies,
they call them.
Little, annoying creatures that hop
and hop
and hop and
don’t stop until you write them down.
Plot bunnies are more
vicious than they sound.
A shark is still shark, even by any other name,
and plot bunnies aren’t cute and cuddly
like their namesake (but
they do eat a lot of grass).
In fact,
by this point in time,
I’d say my mind has a bunny infestation,
and that the plot bunnies are eating
all the grass – the grass I need to
fuel my other thoughts,
the important thoughts,
the thoughts that
have an actual affect
on my actual life.
Plot bunnies are more vicious than they sound,
after all.
They are kind of like babies
or toddlers, I guess
(I wouldn’t know),
since they have a tendency
of keeping me awake at night
for no good reason.
But with all this talk about plot bunnies
not being like bunnies (except
for their appetite for grass)
I don’t think there’s a
better animal for ideas
to be
except for one that
is known, infamous even,
for multiplying
