I'll be honest
I haven't really taken this question seriously. However, I've just thought of a story that (loosely) ties in, so I shall tell it, in all it's glory.

My sister, God bless her, is blonde. Very, very blonde. Possibly blonder than the Miss California pageant of '86. The kind of person that, if you asked her what she was thinking, would truthfully answer "Not much" every single time.

To set the story, we used to have a rabbit, that lived in a greenhouse with two guinea pigs. The rabbit had always been my sister's, which explained why it had such a gay name - 'Snowball.' Now, Snowball had always been an adventurous little bugger, always determined to explore the outside world. He was like a furry, long-eared Steve McQueen, constantly digging tunnels and trying to escape from his 'Nazi' captors (that would be us, for the hard of thinking).

One day, my sister came home from school, to find the greenhouse occupied by two guinea pigs, but no rabbit. Distraught, she searched the glass prison, and couldn't find any means of escape. So, panicky and almost in tears, she phones the only person in the world who can help - my mother, still at work in her office job for a multinational company that may rhyme with 'IDM.'

The phone rings, my mother answers, and is immediately greeted with my sister, sobbing the words "I can't find Snowball anywhere."

She drops what she is doing and switches to 'Mum mode.' "Oh, darling, I'm sorry. Have you checked the greenhouse?"

My sister snivels, and says, "Yes, but he's not there. I've looked everywhere!"

"Well, sweetheart, maybe he's just went out for a walk. I'm sure he'll hop back soon once he knows you're missing him" (My mother has always been a terrible liar)

Then there is a pause, and my sister says, tentatively, "Well...one of the guinea pigs looked like it had a fat neck, and...well..."

"Yes?" my mother asks, full of concern.

"Well...do you think the guinea pig might have...eaten Snowball?"

At this, my mother puts her hand over the mouthpiece and bursts out laughing. Her colleagues, seated around her, stare at her disapprovingly, having heard her trying to console her daughter only moments before. She tries to pull it together, but only ends up laughing harder, while my sister is still trying to talk to her - "Mum? Mum, are you still there?"

Eventually she gets hold of herself, and manages to tell my sister that it's very unlikely the guinea pig has eaten Snowball, seeing as it's a herbivore, and is at least half the size of the missing rabbit.

Happily, Snowball turned up a few days later, sitting in a neighbours garden and munching his prize lettuces. He had escaped through a loose glass panel in the back, which was subsequently boarded over. His rabbity adventures continued, however, and he managed to escape at least 5 more times, before eventually meeting his match in a speeding Volvo estate outside our house, shortly after his last bid for freedom. I like to think the last thing that went through his mind was, "They'll never take me alive", however, I suspect the last thing to go through his mind may well have been a Michelin tyre.

And my guilty pleasure? I greatly enjoy telling this story at all family parties, or whenever I'm being introduced to my sister's latest boyfriend, even though it took place about 7 years ago.

I'm a great big brother...
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Sat 15 Mar 2008, 2:14, 1 reply)

Miss California 1986
www.geocities.com/nmmc77/transcripts01.html
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Sat 15 Mar 2008, 6:54, closed)