I recently revisited Renningers Antique Market in Adamstown for the first time in 25 years in a search for classic pulp fiction, comic books, and a few more odds and ends. Nothing much has changed at this now ancient flea market venue. I recall this place from my youth, but it seems like it’s older than the American Civil War (or Methuselah).
Harry and The One-Eyed Bunny
This is a revision of a previous story, Horace and The One-Eyed Bunny (which can still be found on this site). I never liked the main human character’s name all that much. So I changed it to Harry, and then made some very minor edits to the narrative. This story start came from seeing one of Lily the Little Black Dog’s many chew toys. Like many of her toys, past and present, they seem to lose eyes, limbs, stuffing, and other parts. It’s also one of my few attempts of writing in the first person.
The brown stuffed bunny with one eye looked at me and said, “You have to find my lost eye, Horace.”
The bunny, one of Roxy’s chew toys, was on my desk to my left, near the edge. I hadn’t noticed, nor did I think I heard something. But it did seem odd, not the talking, the bunny being on my desk. Well, the talking was weird too.
“I need my eye, Horace, my other eye.”
I stared at the bunny. Then at my coffee. It was early. I was only on my first cup, so it wasn’t the caffeine. What did I eat last night? Had some Sugar Pops and Cheetos while watching reruns of Lost, but that never caused any problems before.
I looked at the bunny. It was in a sitting position, hunched back. It’s disproportionately long ears standing straight up. A talking rabbit. Why not? Weirder things have happened in my life.
“Are you talking to me?”