Rabbit’s feet are lucky.
But they are lucky only when they are firmly attached to a rabbit, and only for the rabbit.
It is decidedly unlucky for you if a rabbit reachs the great Easter basket in the sky sans feet.
It is extremely unlucky for you for a rabbit to go Heaven-and they all do-and for The Rabbit to gaze down upon it’s mangled and molested body. A massive chocolate tear will fall from The Rabbit’s eye that will remain unmatched in volume save for the amount of blood that will be extracted from the unlucky bastard who cut that foot from the holy body of The Rabbit.
The Rabbit is displeased.
A fool’s folly featuring a furry foot.
Silly human, a rabbit’s foot is for rabbits. It is for hopping, warning drums and mating percussion. It is not for decoration or key fobs or fortuitous charms. It is for startling predators, warning the other rabbits of its warren of the impending danger of said predator.
It is for attracting the attention of the beautiful bunny it has its heart set upon.
It’s for dating.
It is for daring.
Consider your dare accepted.
One day, on your way out to your car, digging for your keys attached to that bloody stump that once was used for mobility and seduction, now dingy and matted from years of your filthy palms and turgid pockets, you will look up and that beautiful appendage will fall from your hands for the last time. Trembling, you’ll put your intact appendages to your drained-of-blood-face as your mouth opens and closes silently. Too terrified to scream, your tongue flaps and clicks against your teeth to no avail. That cold dead fish in your mouth, much like the poor Kanninchen that was robbed of the part of itself that now lay at your feet, is too bathed in fear to offer any form of defense.
Your offense has not been forgotten, nor shall it be forgiven.
You look down for a moment at the shadow that has been cast over you, and the growing puddle of piss that is spreading around your feet and that severed furry foot. Too much terror for your socks to absorb. You look up an realize that it is going to be the last time you ever feel warmth, and then your bowels evacuate and a hot mess is deposited into your fruit-of-the-looms.
You look back up just before you are lifted off of your soon-to-be-missing feet and the world flips upside down and you gaze for the last time upon the horror that has come back to hunt, stalk, haunt and dismember you:
A 50 foot fluffy bunny rabbit, all cotton candy and hershey’s kisses, bearing a goofy buck-toothed grin and a rusty-toothed saw.