I was only kidding when I wrote all that stuff about the evil hare yesterday, you know that, right? Do I know it? I thought I did. I thought I was only writing about a stupid hare, looking scared as I drove towards him, flooding him with my headlights, stopping my car and letting him jump away and if by chance (really small chance) the hare read this blog he would also have known I was kidding.

Two things:
1. The hare does read this blog.
2. He doesn’t know I was kidding.

The hare is mad as hell (which also is where he it from).
This is how I know this: Yesterday, as I came to work, driving through the gates of Terrortory, who do you think is sitting in the middle of the parking lot, staring at me with his red devil hell and death eyes, clinching his knife (which I did not see but assume, am sure of that, he had) with his evil little claw covered paws, ready to jump at the car, cracking it open like a tin and devouring me while singing nursery rimes, looking all madhappy with blood dripping down from his two yellow, gigantic, teeth?

You’ve guessed it; the hare!

There is not only something seriously wrong with that house, standing on Terrortory, there is also something seriously wrong with that hare.

I didn’t see him for the rest of the night but I’ll bet you several Swedish money that he saw me… luring in the dark, waiting for his chance.