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from The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter
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I never sympathized with Mr. McGregor in
Peter Rabbit until the fattest, dumbest rabbit you ever did see decided our backyard was his own personal salad bar. It ate all the tulips that came up, and keeps hanging around to chow down on the new grass. I'm seriously considering investing in some kind of Nerf gun for long-range vermin control so I don't have to keep going out and chasing it off to protect the Easter lilies that are growing now. How many times do you have to scare the damn thing off before it stops coming back?
Frakking rabbits.
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