“Your condition can be changed using this box of amazing cure-alls,” hOOty hOOted Dr. Exodus Barn Owl, shoving a package of Miracle Elastics, Assorted Colors, Funny Farm, LTD., across his highly polished oak-tree desk to Reggie Rabbit, referral patient #248.
“Pink’s for mania, to handle your obsession with chasing after hares instead of rabbits. Red’s for over stimulation. Your premature e-jack-rabbit-ulation. Orange, for hip-hoppy thoughts that get you tossed into prickly briar patches.
“You’re a southpaw, so put the snapper on your right wrist. Elastics come in different strengths. You’ll need a sting that’s sharp as a wasp rather jabbing like a bumble bee. The sooner you start, the better. Call me Doc Barney.”
“I don’t suppose a hornet sting would do the trick?” asked Reggie, who thought he knew a thing or two about things horny and prickly.
“Tut. Tut. Tut. You shouldn’t be looking for an easy way out,” hOOted Dr. Barney. “With these elastics you’ll get 500 snaps each. That’ll get you through the day without wanting to bunny hop in the bramble every hapless hare you fancy.”
“I advise you to change rubbers, er, elastics at bedtime,” Dr. Barney winked. “That way should you be aroused by an off-color dream of misbehaving in Mr. McGregor’s garden, you’ll get around-the-clock protection of the Association of Barn Owl Reparative Therapy, ABORT system.
“How hard should I snap, doc,” asked Reggie, wanting to make sure the cure, for which he emptied two piggy banks, would work. “Light, medium, hard, or, zippy-do-dah, that hurts like heck?”
“The harder, the better. Oh, yes: here’s a ginger snap-happy tip. If you see a lively hare that really gets your tail in a twitter, snap with a Sky Blue elastic. Twelve to a box. It’s no blow. Just go blue!”
“I’ll try anything, doc. How long does this pre-scare-a-tOOty-whatever take?”
“I can’t say for sure – it’s not professional – but I’ve seen hare-raising changes in twelve snappy months. When you’ve worn out these magic elastics, come back for more – ten percent discount.”
Whereupon Dr. Exodus Barn Owl shut his big blinking OOs and – straight as an arrow – fell asleep, dreaming of mice, rats, and delectably fat, but rarely obtainable, voles.
Reggie Rabbit took the Miracle Elastics, chose a Sky Blue one, slipped it next to his Mickey Mouse watch, and SNAPPED it full jab, then hopped hopefully and gaily into the glen to pick daisies for a chain. As he did so he snap, snap, snapped. And snap, snap, snapped …
“Well, Reggie, are you still having thoughts about humping hares instead of jumping rabbits?” asked Dr. Exodus Barn Owl one year, seven days, four hours, three snappy minutes later.
“I’m afraid so,” answered Reginald sheepishly.”I’ve snapped – snapped so many thousands of times my wrist’s gone perfectly limp. Say! What’s up, doc? I still want to hump hares. Give me my money back.”
“Well, isn’t that a hOOt,” said Dr. Exodus, staring blankly off into space. “Sorry, Ex-Patient #248. There’s no refund for hare brains like you.”