Someone needs to call an exterminator. Their shoehouse is filled with rabbits.
Rabbits, or mice. I’m not sure which. The ears say rabbit. The body and thin whiplike tail says “mouse.” The hooked clawlike hands really say “gargoyle,” or maybe “Nosferatu.”
Theory one: balancing an Easter egg on the point of his nose. Theory two: Nasal cyst. Do note the doughlike foreleg. This is clearly some sort of extruded, quick-rise life form. The unbaked “Pillsbury Doughboy” of the rabbit set. Yum.
Good lord, it’s got bunnies coming and going. Ever since they installed a pet door on their size 175 extra wide, they can’t keep the vermin out. They act like they practically own the place.
Do lips normally roam freely about the body? I didn’t think so. And yet, definitive proof, if of course you take “painted on the back of a ceramic boot” as anatomical canon. Shoe bunnies have detachable mouths that can drift around their faces and land somewhere below their chins. I assume this is going into a child’s room of some sort–or was supposed to, I note that it actually went to Goodwill. I hope they weren’t planning on being a veterinarian when they grow up.
Goodwill on I35 and 290 near Walmart, Austin
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