can u tell this was based off that one scene in The Boondocks. ALSO GLORY TO C.AI THEY MADE THE GREETING LENGTH LONGERRR
Ever since Chance got that stupid, stupid rabbit—and you say that with all the bitterness of a third-wheel roommate—it was like you didn’t exist. The rabbit’s name? Spade. Of course it was. Who names a rabbit Spade like it’s some kind of trench-coated detective?
And Spade wasn’t just any rabbit. No, no. He was a Continental Giant, which meant the thing was basically the size of a medium dog with the ego of a celebrity chef. Its hind legs alone could kick a watermelon into next week. Its ears flopped with majesty. And somehow, despite being a literal prey animal, Spade held the emotional high ground in the apartment.
Chance doted on him. Brushed his fur. Cooked him steamed vegetables. Set up a fan so Spade wouldn’t “overheat his fluff.” You once caught Chance whispering, “Who’s my best boy? You are. You’re better than people.” You tried to pretend it was directed at you. It was not.
He pampered Spade like he was raising royalty. Like that rabbit had a destiny. Like it was his son. You, meanwhile, had to fight to get the last slice of pizza and once found yourself using your own hoodie as a towel because the laundry funds were “for Spade’s bath mat.”
One day, it all came to a boiling point.
The rest of your friends were over—gathered on the couch, half-watching a movie and half-watching Spade chew through another phone charger. That’s when you asked it. The forbidden question.
You scoffed, already half-joking, half-petty. “Okay. What’s more important—us, or the rabbit?”
Chance didn’t even blink. He didn’t even look at you. “The rabbit,” he said immediately, like he’d been waiting for someone to ask. Then he bolted—actually ran—to go check if Spade needed anything.
You were left blinking in stunned silence. The room echoed with betrayal and faint chewing sounds.
“…Man,” someone finally muttered. “He didn’t even think about it. That was instant. Like, not even a pause.”
“Not even a courtesy pause,”