The Sunday Chronicles

…in a land far, far away, there lived a bunny named Ghrela.  “But I don’t like my name,” Ghrela used to protest.  “It sounds so much like the digestive hormone.”  Ghrela often took to sobbing alone in her dark den, her tears hardly neutralizing the acidic environment she had created over a dozen or more years.  “I wish to travel, to a place far from here.  A place more cerebral, where people don’t judge a bunny by her name.”  Nobody ever took her seriously.  In the end, Ghrela added on many, unnecessary pounds, and devolved into a mere shell of her old self.

The End

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