DEEP INSIDE THE BUNNY HOUSE -- CHAPTER THREE
"It's got my leg it's got my leg gemme out gemme out hallllllllllllllllllllp!!!!'
Young Jimmy Apples' leg was sunk in a hole in the soft vegetable floor of the cavern.
"Quick! It's warm and mushy and it's going to eat my leg right off! Hurry!"
Y-971 knelt down to examine the hole Young Jimmy Apples was stuck in.
"There are what appear to be flat teeth, but they are not--"
Suddenly Young Jimmy Apples was flung up into the air.
The hole sputtered, and from behind came an ear-splitting croak.
Great vents, or blowholes--a pair of them extruding from the vegetable surface.
"Stay away from that hole," I ordered the team. "And watch your step. Walk this way."
"Dá bhféadfainn siúl ar an mbealach sin, ní bheadh an cána draíochta seo de dhíth orm," muttered Fecund Bogsoil.
"Now careful, don't step, but look."
There were two large indentations, oval in shape, bulging slightly in their centers. Frilly stalks like parsley where eyelashes would be if the eyes were closed.
It was a giant face in the vegetable floor. The face of @Herbert Albert
. And it was snoring.
"Ní dhéanann sé ach aisling na nglasraí a aisling, a dhéanann sé," Fecund Bogsoil said ominously.
DEEP INSIDE THE BUNNY HOUSE -- CHAPTER ONE
Upon arrival at the temperamental and untidy @Herbert Albert
's Bunny House, chaos reigned. Pringles containers empty and smashed, cans of Monster, Bang, and Fang strewn around the entrance. The Bunny House itself loomed like a great green cabbagey chapel, roughly three meters in height, its sturdy ribbed outer walls coming together to form the folds of a frilly, slightly parted entrance, much like the entrance to a tent or canopied bed. Though more taunt. And made of vegetable matter.
My team consists of The Dream Team, so named because they first met each other in their dreams, and endured tests and quests to finally come together here at Psyhigh. They are: Y-971, genetically enhanced and modified bio-form; Young Jimmy Apples, immortal child; and Fecund Bogsoil, recently unearthed druid priestess.
We apportioned ourselves well at the Student Market beforehand. Sensitive Calabari ropes, which become responsive upon repeated handling; Neverlasting Goglobes, attached to our epaulets by incredibly thin invisible wire; various handclaws, footspikes, and clingons based on designs illegal in this sector. Plus a delectable assortment of jams, scones, and bottled psychoactive teas.
I leave this record at the entrance as insurance that, in the event of our disappearance, there will be at least the beginning of trail of clues as to our fate.