[A/n:] I got this idea by reading the real "Attack of the Killer Plot Bunnies", a Star Wars fic. You can read it by going to starwarschicks.com/sithchicks/fiction/bunnies1.htm (to see parts two and three, just change the number at the end). Thanks to Priya and Annie for BETAing.


Yesterday, you had seen Return of the King for the...7th time? 8th? Ah, you were losing count. Now it was Saturday, nobody was home, and you were itching to log on to fanfiction.net to write the next big hit. Something with intrigue! Romance! Suspense! Tragedy!

But the only real tragedy was the emptiness inside your head.

You decide to log on anyway, keeping the window up while opening a new word-processing document. The whiteness of the screen is intimidating. The cursor blinks at you as if to say, "Come on! Hurry up! The fans are waiting!"

A rustle behind you causes you to spin around in your swivel chair. Your eyes dart around the room. Nobody was going to be home for hours. What was that?

You finally spot it. On top of the TV is a bunny. He has a mop of curly, tan colored hair on his head. He is wearing a scarf, white shirt, trousers, and a green cape.

You blink. And again. The bunny stares back at you. You had wanted an idea, but this...no! A nightmare! Anything but this!

The plot bunnies had returned.

And if you knew anything about bunnies, there's more where that came from.

"Who are you?" you ask, trying not to sound as afraid as you feel.

"I'm a Pippin plot bunny," he replies in the cutest accent you've ever heard.

"And where are your friends? Don't lie, I know there's more of you."

"They're, ahem, behind the TV." And before you can tell him to go away, they start popping out, some from behind, some from on top. You gasp. There must be 30 of them at least. And they all want to be written by you.

Flattered as you are, you can't write all of them. You clear your throat. "I can't house all of you today, but I'll at least jot your plots down so I can get to them later."

"Ok said a bunny in the back; you can't see his face, "but if you forget, we'll come back."

Gulp. Time to get your rear in gear. "Ok, all," you shout, "Please line up in an orderly fashion. And if you can help it, no elf and dwarf bunny should be next to each other." After much chattering, and the occasional clang of weapons, there's a line of bunnies from your chair to the far wall. You start with the first one, the Pippin bunny whom you addressed before.

"Ok, I know who you are already. What is your plot?"

"After singing in Denethor's hall, I am picked up by an agent, and I sing all over Middle Earth."

You resist the urge to put your head in your hands. THIS is what you're going to endure for the next few hours? But what can you do? So you type down his name, species, and plot and call, "Next!" The Pippin bunny hops away.

You stare after him. "Where's he going?"

The next plot bunny says, "To catch the cruise ship."

"The WHAT?"

"Well, after we're written down, we go to the Grey Havens."

"Oh." You turn to the bunny that just spoke. He is big and brown, with chunky armor and a white mark across his face. You could guess who it is, but decide to ask anyway, just to be sure. "And you are...?"

"I'm a Lurtz bunny."

You type down "Lurtz. Species: Orc."

You look back at him. "My ghost haunts Aragorn for eternity," says the Lurtz bunny, puffing his chest out.

You faintly here an "EEK!" somewhere in the line that you assume is Aragorn. "Next!"

A bunny with long, blonde hair hops up. She has a white dress on. "I'm Eowyn"

Eowyn. Species: Human. "And your plot?"

"After marrying Faramir, I become an entrepreneur."

"Doing what?" You're afraid to ask.

"Fencing lessons."

Oh, boy. "Next!"

Two bunnies move up. "One at a time, please," you comment with a sigh.

"Um, we kind of have to go together."

You squint at the bunny. It isn't just one bunny, but two. A Siamese bunny. "What...?" you begin to ask.

"I'm the Legolas bunny," the left one pipes up. You can tell: long, blonde hair, green outfit, the whole bit. The other one has brown, curly hair under a big hat with a feather. His clothes are maroon and resemble fashions that would have been found in the 1700s.

"I'm the Will Turner bunny," the right one explains.

Ah. That would explain it.

To be continued...