You complained when you were born and you will complain when you die—so why are you complaining now?
The little wabbit is sad and lonely.
Now it is all alone in the world.
When his thirty-two brothers and sisters were still alive they were one big family. They ate four-leaf clovers and drank dew-drops from hyacinth petals. Life was wonderful, then; especially the night when Papa came hopping back from Mexico with a whole suitcase of the finest grass from South of the Rio Grande. Ah, how they danced in the moonlight…
The next morning is when it happened. Farmer Mc Gregor says it was an agricultural accident. The little wabbit’s family perished, and the meadow is no more. The little wabbit is lonely and sad. All the grass is gone.
The little wabbit has taken to stealing cabbages from Mc Gregor. You have to eat something!
Shop-and-Stop has received complaints about a lonely wabbit knocking old ladies over in the parking lot and running away with the vegetables! Oh my!
The little lonely wabbit is thinking of buying a gun and getting into the used hub-cap business.
I am afraid, this is not going to end well…