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Fifty people from four counties over had gathered to see it: Ned Spunkman's Doom Bunny.
Nadine Spunkman, ever the saleswoman, stationed herself at the gate to take their money. The spectators pressed themselves into the close quarters of her backyard, where they bleated like a herd of sheep as they angled for a glimpse of the Doom Bunny.
The Spunkman twins hovered in front of the rabbit cage, glowers on their pimpled, sun-scorched faces that dared the onlookers to just try and poke a finger through the mesh at their father's Doom Bunny.
"Ain't no Doom Bunny," Hilda Swithers muttered, though she had been first in line that morning to pay her ten bucks at the gate, half-hanging off the split rail fence as it was.
Bridget Brighton clapped her hands in delight as she caught a glimpse of the Doom Bunny's soft, brown fur. "What a joke those Spunkmans are pulling on us silly fools! How could something so dear spell our doom?"
"Do not be fooled by its fluffy tail and the innocence of its beady eyes," Reverend Flanderman chided in his best fire-and-brimstone tone. "The Lord warns us that Satan will assume a pleasing shape to lure us from the path of righteousness. The power of the Dark One is in that bunny, and we must resist! The power of our Lord Christ compels us to resist its lure, I say!"
A hush fell over the crowd as the screen door swung open and Ned Spunkman stepped outside, carrot in hand. A path cleared to let Ned pass, and not just because remnants of the Spunkman clan's last few suppers were smeared on the pant legs of his overalls.
"Behold, y'all!" Ned held the carrot aloft. "The Doom Bunny shall speak!"
Ned opened the cage. He paused to cast a dramatic glance at the chattering crowd, then threw the carrot inside, closed the cage, and backed away.
Silence. A few people inched closer, but the Spunkman twins forced them back with their glares. The Doom Bunny hopped forward to sniff the carrot, and the crowd gasped. More silence. Then, at last, came an ominous nibble as the Doom Bunny chewed its message of ruination into the carrot.
After several tense minutes, the Doom Bunny hopped toward the water bottle affixed to its cage, as if it needed to wash away the taste of its apocalyptic missive. Ned waited until the bunny was drinking before removing the carrot. When the cage door was once again secure, he studied the carrot, then held it out for those closest to see.
Faces blanched. A child wept. A woman crossed herself. Old Burly Buck from two counties over fainted.
Ned Spunkman sighed; it was worse than last month's prediction. He held up a hand to silence the nervous whispers of those gathered, then read aloud what the Doom Bunny had chiseled into the carrot: "Brad and Angelina are breaking up."
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