Burning bunnies are how I think
of ideas. Soft cuddly ideas that seem so innocent and sweet. I
take them in and feed them carrots. I pet them and talk to
them. They look so cute sitting on my desk. Until they flame
up and start procreating into more ideas, which I frantically chase about
my office until I corral them with pen and ink, jam them in a box, and
ship them off to New York. I don't know what New York does with
them, but they end up proliferating even more until there is no choice but
to bind them in paper and send them everywhere to get rid of them.
Unsuspecting people see them sitting on the shelf. They look so
sweet and innocent, and they're taken home where, if they're lucky,
they're fed carrots. If luck stays with them, even more ideas are
born. And that's pretty cool.
Link to the The Commons or "coke bottle short"
