The mutilation of a marshmallow bunny

As has long been established, I am a simple woman with simple pleasures. The sound of a freshly-opened Pepsi...the soft rustle of a Russell Stover Marshmallow Bunny wrapper...the pliable texture of three-day-old stale yellow marshmallow Peep bunnies...it's all a girl could ask for. Yet, there are dark forces that threaten to ruin that which I hold most dear. (Like when Hostess supposedly went "out of business." We know that it was actually a secret plot to just switch over all their machinery to market a smaller Ho-Ho for the same price...you're not fooling me, Hostess people!)

I am VERY specific about my desires. I LOVE yellow marshmallow Peep bunnies. Nothing else will do. Not pink, blue or, gasp, bubblegum. Not chick-shaped. Yellow. Bunnies. They MUST be exposed to air for a minimum of three days to attain peak staleness before consumption. And then I like to violently tear their ears off with my teeth like a hungry lioness ripping into the side of a zebra. But...for the past three years, an anonymous member of my household has secretly been de-flowering my yellow rabbit roses. Amputated ears litter my kitchen counter tops. WHY?!? Why would someone be so intentionally cruel? What have I done to provoke such maliciousness against my marshmallow-y deliciousness? Is it a subliminal message about my inattentiveness? My lack of listening skills? There are healthier ways of expressing displeasure. Writing me a heartfelt letter...therapy...killing me in my sleep...anything but the bunny.