_What_Bunnies_Are_For_-_Part_10_

        Tabby had recovered her temper and her usual good spirits by
the time they reached the kitchen. Several bunnies were busy there;
scrubbing pots and pans, peeling potatoes and similar simple, manual
labour. They were all naked; their fur was stained and matted and
nasty scars showed clearly through their fur. Several of them looked
up as Tabby and Jamie walked in. One bunny, her nose and faced almost
halved by a long scar and most of her left ear missing, rushed over
to them.
        "Tabby!" she exclaimed. "Tabby, I've missed you so!"
        "Hi, Silvy," Jamie's guide cooed, as she took the damaged
bunny into her arms and held and petted her. "Silvy," she said at
last, "this is Jamie Mullens. I wanted you to meet him."
        The scullery bunny's remaining ear twitched back. "He's not
taking you away...."
        Tabby looked at the man and giggled. "No, my dear," she
replied, "Jamie isn't taking me away from you. I'm letting him see
the mansion."
        Silvy's face fell and her good ear twitched back against her
head for a moment. They barely whispered to each other briefly, Silvy
glancing at the human once or twice. Finally she hugged Tabby close.
Jamie made out her whisper, "Be careful," before they parted. Then
she turned and gave him a lopsided smile. "I'm very pleased to meet
you, Mr. Mullens."
        "Likewise, but call me Jamie."
        Silvy giggled at that, (the laugh uncannily like Tabby's),
and reached out her paw. Jamie took it in both of his, examining a
missing digit. "Was this...." he began.
        "Oh, no," she replied, "I got this slicing meat...."
        Suddenly, three long ears twitched towards a corner. Tabby
hustled Jamie through the door. Moments later, a woman in a low
chef's hat came into view through the little window in the door. "You
weren't supposed to be in there," Tabby murmured to him, over the
muffled sounds of the sou chef's raised voice. "Silvy lost her finger
in the meat slicer. They don't have safety guards on the equipment
the damaged bunnies use. And did you notice how strongly she smelled
of herself? They aren't given bathing facilities, they get hosed down
when someone thinks...."
        Tabby's description was cut short by a sudden scream inside
the kitchen. Jamie rushed to the door in time to see Silvy on her
knees in front of the human, her forehead on the dirty floor and her
rump raised, clawing at the tiles and screaming. The sou chef was
grinding the end of a thick plastic rod under her tail. He only saw
it for a moment before Tabby grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

        "I admit I sometimes want to bite them," the wolf morph said,
"or growl at them. Then maybe they wouldn't give me a hard time. I
have to be polite, of course. On the whole, though, customers here
are high class, they don't get drunk and rowdy. It was a lot worse at
the place the mansion bought me from. They went bankrupt though, and
the sheriff had to sell me and the other goods."
        "Joey," Tabby prompted, "tell Jamie about your sleeping
quarters here."
        "Not much to tell, really," the wolf replied. "We have a den
in the basement, some old matresses and blankets, it suites us fine."
        "Tell him about the insects."
        "Insects?" Joey repeated, and snorted in disgust. "We have to
pick the ticks off each other every morning or they'll bleed us dry!
The fleas, they're another problem, but the mansion gives us powder
every other week...."
        "You make it sound like Auschwitz!" Jamie exclaimed.
        "Ow... sh-wits?" Joey repeated, quizzically. "What's that?"
        "You'd better not ask," Tabby interjected, glancing up. The
wolf looked up with her and his face fell.
        "Do they treat you okay?" Jamie asked.
        "I guess so."
        "Compared to what, Jamie?" Tabby prompted.
        "I mean, do they feed you? Do they make you... do things?"
        The wolf morph bouncer looked stricken and hung his head.
"They feed us okay," he muttered.

        "Eet was much worse by my first ownairs!" the pretty skunk
morph replied. "Ah oui, I sang for the customaires, and zen they take
me into a back room and.... I prefer not to talk of these things,
s'il vous plait. Eet makes me upset, and I do not have time for."
        "Time?" Jamie asked.
        "Sherri has cancer, Jamie. The Paris club that owned her last
never had it treated. It was cheaper to just buy a new skunkette."
        "Blessed St. Mary," Jamie muttered.
        "Sherri, show Jamie your back."
        The skunk morph covered her mouth in horror and backed away.
        "Humans only believe what they see, dear."
        "It's all right, Tabby, she doesn't have to."
        "Non, m'sieur," the skunk replied, her head bowed but her
tail and back straight. "Tabbee eez right, I must show..." She took a
deep, shuddering breath. "Tabbee, s'il vous plait?"
        The bunny went to the trembling skunkette, unzipped her dress
and lowered it to her waist. Her generous breasts quivered visibly
under the white fur of her chest and belly, outlined by the thick,
black fur around them. She gently turned Sherri around. The skunk's
composure broke as her back came into view; she held Tabby and sobbed.
        She had no fur there, just a single, large, ill-healed burn.
Jamie knelt and was violently ill.

Copyright 1995 Allan D. Burrows         (continued)
All Rights Reserved after publication