“Oh honey, you just don’t belong there,” Bunny’s sister sighs. “You put a Georgia peach in a
bowl of coleslaw and what do you expect? You should come on home.”
Bunny lets out a soft little sigh, the kind that floats more than it falls. “Oh now, Charity, you
know I’ll get myself out of this little fix. They just… do things a touch differently up here, is
all.”
She hangs up smiling.
A quick chat with her hometown girls is like hairspray for the soul—everything lifts right back
into place.
Spunk: restored.
Plan: activated.
Bunny taps out a message, full of hearts, exclamation points, and just enough wounded
sweetness to make a saint feel guilty. She hits send with a satisfied nod.
There now. That ought to soften them right up.
And tomorrow? Well.
Tomorrow brings Round Two of the lucky pink panties—this time triple-checked, non-
dissolvable, and absolutely, positively not edible.
Growth.
Bunny gathers her beach bag and gets to packing like she’s preparing for emotional
warfare—gift bags, tissue paper, ribbon, and, for the finishing touch, her favorite photo albums.
Because really, when you think about it, these girls don’t have a Bunny problem…
They have a not-knowing-Bunny-enough problem.
A few snapshots of her baton-twirling days, a couple from the Miss Magnolia Blossom Pageant
(runner-up, but still), and maybe that one of her on the hood of Ricky Dale’s Camaro—
Yes.
That’ll do it.
—
The café is quiet, which Bunny takes as a blessing. Less distraction. More impact.
Her team is gathered at a table by the window.
Waiting.
Watching.
Bracing, if we’re being honest.
Bunny makes her entrance.
She did not come to play.
Her blonde hair is fluffed to glory, her red halter hugging exactly what it ought to hug, her best
blue jeans doing the Lord’s work, and those kitten heel sandals? Tassels bouncing like they’re
excited to be there.
She beams.
Radiates.
Advances.
“Hey, y’all!” she sings, swooping in with hugs whether they’re ready or not.
Mary Beth stiffens like a board.
Alice half-commits and regrets it immediately.
Traci gets trapped and just… accepts her fate.
“Well now,” Bunny says, settling in like she owns the place, “I just cannot tell you how much I
appreciate y’all meetin’ me today.”
Three tight smiles blink back at her.
“I’ve got so much to show you—but first things first…”
She reaches into her bag.
The women visibly flinch.
“…I brought y’all a new and improved version of my lucky pink panties!”
Out come the gift bags.
Soft.
Frilly.
Threatening.
Mary Beth doesn’t even lift her hands.
“No.”
Bunny pauses exactly half a second… then gently sets the bag right in front of her anyway.
“Now, Mary Beth,” she says, all honey and patience, “that was just a teeny tiny mix-up on my
part. I was only tryin’ to give us an edge for the tournament.”
Mary Beth stares at the bag like it might explode.
“I just ordered the wrong kind of undies, that’s all.”
A beat.
Then, sweet as pie:
“But these won’t dissolve… and they most certainly will not melt in anybody’s mouth.”
Silence.
Alice chokes on her coffee.
Traci looks at the ceiling like she’s asking God for strength.And Bunny?
Bunny just smiles.
Because as far as she’s concerned…
This is going much better already.
Bunny waves down the waitress before anyone can object.
“Now sugar, we are celebratin’ reconciliation,” she says, like that settles it. “Bring us one of
everything sweet you’ve got. Pie, cake, cookies—oh! And those little chocolate things with the
gooey middle. Bless.”
Mary Beth closes her eyes.
Alice whispers, “We’re being held hostage.”
Traci nods. “With frosting.”
The plates arrive faster than dignity leaves the table.
Bunny clasps her hands, beaming. “Now before we dig in, I just want to say a little somethin’.”
The three women visibly brace.Bunny takes a breath, presses a hand to her chest, and—just like that—transforms.
“I am so sorry, y’all.”
It’s soft. Earnest.
Dangerously convincing.
“I should not have run outta the house bra-less the way I did…and embarrassed you all. It’s just
that I was running so late…”
Alice makes a choking sound into her napkin.
“—and as for the… edible situation…”
Traci mutters, “We know what the situation was.”
Bunny presses on, eyes shining now. Actually shining.
“I was only tryin’ to bring a little luck and a little fun to this team, and instead I brought…
well…” She swallows. “Confusion. And… moisture.”
Mary Beth drops her fork.
“I take full responsibility,” Bunny says, her voice trembling just enough to deserve a standing
ovation. “And I promise you, on my mama’s good silver, I will never again do anything to
embarrass this team.”
Silence falls over the table.
A long one.
Bunny dabs at the corner of her eye with a napkin, looking as sincere as a Sunday school teacher
and just about as holy.
Mary Beth exhales slowly. “Well…”
Alice shifts. “I mean…”
Traci sighs. “It’s just—”
“Now,” Bunny says brightly, the storm passing as quickly as it came, “who wants pie?”
And just like that, forks lift.
Because nobody can stay mad with warm chocolate cake sitting two inches from their face.
Bunny watches them take their first bites, satisfied.
Progress.
“Oh!” she chirps, already reaching into her beach bag. “And since we are all feelin’ better…”
The women freeze mid-chew.
“Does anyone want to see my favorite memories?” Bunny asks, pulling out a thick, glittered covered photo album. “I brought just a few to share.”
“A few?” Mary Beth repeats weakly.
Bunny sets one on the table.
Then another.
Then another.
They land with soft, ominous thuds.
Alice stares. “How many is ‘a few’?”
Bunny smiles, glowing. “Well… I didn’t want to overwhelm y’all, so I only brought six.”
Traci leans back in her chair. “I’m gonna need more cake.”
Mary Beth eyes the exit.
Bunny flips open the first album.
“Now this right here—this is me in my baton-twirlin’ days. Won Best Smile three years
runnin’—”
And somehow…
Despite themselves…
They lean in.
Until the final album.
Bunny lays one manicured hand on the glittery cover and smiles in a way that suddenly makes
everyone nervous.
“Ohhh,” she says softly. “Now this one… this one is my pride and joy.”
Mary Beth slowly lowers her fork.
Alice stops chewing altogether.
Traci whispers, “Why am I terrified?”
Bunny opens the cover.
The three women lean in—then jerk back so hard the table rattles.
Mary Beth slaps a hand to her chest. She moves her lips to speak but only gasps and chokes
escape.
Alice gasps, “IS THAT YOU?”
Traci grabs Bunny by the wrist. “You were a WHAT?!”
Bunny beams, pats her hair, and says;
“Well sugar… that depends. Are we talkin’ centerfold, cocktail waitress, or Employee of the
Month?”
💋 Bunny Unfiltered
New Trouble Every Friday