In the spring of 1997, I was living in an apartment in Santa Monica California.
My Mother had sent me a Dan Dee Giggle Bunny for Easter. If you squeeze the paw it would start giggling and wiggling, the cheeks would light up, and it would say, “That tickles.”

At first, it seemed innocent enough. I opened it and thought, “Oh, this seems like a funny gift.”
The laughter was a bit deranged. The wiggling was a bit manic. The voice was a bit disturbing, but cute. I didn’t love it but I set it on my desk in my room because it was a gift from my mom.
Then, I forgot about the bunny.
That was my mistake.
I thought I started to hear the giggling at random times. While in the shower or watching TV in the living room, or even in the middle of the night, I would hear the giggling.
I told myself, “Surely, that’s not possible. You have to push the paw. “
I put the bunny under the bed. Giggling emanated from beneath me while I slept.
I moved the bunny to my closet, muffled giggling.
I moved the bunny to the living room, distant giggling.
My roommate forced me to move the bunny back into my room insisting that it was too creepy for the shared space.
I was starting to unravel. Was I feeling guilty because I didn’t love the gift from my mom or was the bunny actually trying to drive me mad?
I shook the bunny, I shook it and screamed, “YOU HAVE TO PUSH THE PAW!”
That night, under cloak of darkness. The bunny went to the dumpster behind my building. Good riddance.
As I walked back up the stairs to my apartment a feeling of peace overtook me. It was done.
I got into my pajamas, crawled into bed, and clicked the light off.
Then, in the darkest part of the night, I heard it once more.
The bunny giggled. It’s giggle was amplified by the open air space in the middle of my building. It was louder than it had ever been, echoing deep into the depths of my soul and so that the entire building woke and was hollering cries of dismay and dread from their windows.
I shook my fists and cried, “DAMN YOU GIGGLE BUNNY, DAMN YOU TO HELL!”
Thank you for reading.

Wow you weave a great story. Loved reading this. The thing nightmares are made of by the most innocent of things. Made me think of the movie chuckle.
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