Celebrity Interview #4

B-Dog is seated at his desk, sipping some coffee as the band plays a reggae version of Take Me Out To The Ballgame. The band finishes. Audience cheers.

B-Dog: Are we back from our commercial break already? Well, then, it's time for our weekly celebrity interview here on Jive To The Monkey. This week is the big one, people. We've had Lorie King, we've had Cheryl Rupp, and we even had the spirit of William Shakespeare, but this week we have my oldest friend ... my stuffed bunny rabbit, given to me by my Grandpa in St. Louis for my first Easter. Ladies and Gentlemen, make him welcome ... Rabby!

Thunderous applause as Rabby, a Rabbit-Man kind of creature who stands on two legs and is 10 inches tall, enters. He is a 32-year old rabbit with extremely worn fur, ears that are about to fall off, stitching in several places where his seams had burst and stuffing had escaped, and masking tape in many other places. A gruesome site, yet his dapper walk is enough to delight the crowd.

B-Dog: Welcome, old friend. Welcome to Jive To The Monkey.

Rabbit: Old friend, my foot. And my foot ain't so lucky. It's full a' gout. Now what's the deal, Gilles?

B-Dog: Well, I --

Rabby: I'm here. I showed up. Now where's that free Christmas ham?

B-Dog: It's actually a coupon.

Rabby: Boy, if you screw me over, we're gonna have us a pier-six brawl.

B-Dog: No, I ... just ... a few questions --

Rabby: Dagnabit! Do you know how old I am in stuffed animal years? 165! You don't disturb a 165-year old rabbit's rest for nothing!

B-Dog: No, but ... just --

Rabby: Tar-and-tarnation, boy! Don't you know me to be the orneriest stuffed critter you've ever seen?

B-Dog: Yes, but --

Rabby: Are you saying YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME?!?

B-Dog: Um, I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot.

Rabby: Never mention "foot" to a rabbit.

B-Dog: Uh, right ... let's just do this: I'll ask you questions and you answer. Now, tell me about your younger days, in that toy store in St. Louis, before my grandpa bought you for my Easter present.

Rabby: 1972. Those were the days!

B-Dog: Good times in the toy store?

Rabby: No, no, no. I'm talking about later. At nights, after the store closed. Me and Barbie -- Woooooo!

B-Dog: This is a family show.

Rabby: That was a short-lived romance anyway. What a dumb broad she was. Anyway, after I dumped Barb, a stuffed monkey and I --

B-Dog: Was it a Jive Monkey?

Rabby: SILENCE! Anyway, this monkey and I would bust outta the joint and head down town to the clubs.

B-Dog: In the streets of St. Louis?

Rabby: Boozin' and cruisin'! We'd find some shady dive, do a little dancin' and romancin', then end up bustin' the place up. Nothing like a good Friday Night Fight with a young punk that takes exception to a stuffed rabbit and monkey who steal the hearts of the local women.

B-Dog: Wow. So, that all changed when you came to live with me.

Rabby: Yeah it did. Stuck in a room with a snot-nosed brat --

B-Dog: We had some good times!

Rabby: Remember how your daddy had to tuck you in every night and give you a sip of wa-wa before you'd go to sleep?

B-Dog: What? I was a macho kid.

Rabby: Macho! You were a sissy. You'd get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and take me with you so the "monsters" wouldn't get you. Then you'd leave the bathroom light on so it wouldn't be so dark when you ran back to your room.

B-Dog: You're making this up.

Rabby: You used to pick your nose and wipe it on the bedsta--

B-Dog: LET'S PLAY THE NAME ASSOCIATION GAME! Joel Anderson.

Rabby: Is that your friend that nearly wets himself at the sight of me, when he comes over to the house?

B-Dog: One of them. He says you look freaky -- like "Chucky" or something.

Rabby: Little fairy, wears ear-rings?

B-Dog: I wouldn't say "fairy," but yes, he's quite a Metro.

Rabby: He melts in fear! He cannot look upon me. Hey Joel, why don't you just put on a little petticoat!

B-Dog: He's not gonna take kindly to this ....

Rabby: A little petticoat, and then frolic about with your imaginary tea set!
Rabby stands up and dances around the stage, mocking Joel Anderson

B-Dog: This is getting out of hand.

Rabby: (sitting down) What about that other boy who comes to your house? The other one who quakes in fear at the sight of me?

B-Dog: That's a girl. Stacey.

Rabby: A girl? No ....

B-Dog: Yeah. I went four years thinking she was a boy.

Rabby: A funny-looking boy, but still! Her mannerisms.

B-Dog: Mannish. Yes. But she's a she.

Rabby: What kind of a cad are you? Putting me up to challenging a girl to some fisticuffs?

B-Dog: I didn't ask you to challenge her! I didn't even bring her name up.

Rabby: Did so.

B-Dog: Did not.

Rabby: Did so.

B-Dog: Did not.

Rabby: Tain't neither.

B-Dog: What?

Rabby: What?

B-Dog: Huh?

Rabby: You said "What." What, what?

Elmer Fudd, gun in hand, begins to creep through the studio audience, heading toward the stage.

Fudd: Be vewy quiet. I'm hunting wabbits.

Rabby leaps to his feet.

Rabby: Feet, don't fail me now!

Rabby runs off stage and out the door.

Fudd: You wascalwy wabbit!

Elmer Fudd fires off a shot but misses. He too runs out the door, pursuing his game. A visible shaken B-Dog stares at the studio audience.

B-Dog: I'm not sure what happened here. I think we need to go to commercial break.

The End