Interview With The Rabbit

January 19, 2012 § 41 Comments

Some might say writing a novel with your sister is dangerous, like waking a sleepwalker.  The Rabbit herself, Becky Hepinstall Hilliker, answers some hard questions from her hutch in Virginia Beach.

After having so many babies, how does it feel to finally be involved in the miracle of life?

I kept having babies in the hopes that I would get a cute one. Having abandoned that, I am hoping that this collaboration will yield something I can brag about at the next Navy wives club meeting. Additionally, surely the drugs used to birth this baby will be more satisfying than those offered at the hospital.

How do you get your daily vitamin D requirement living in my shadow?

I get all of the sunshine I need basking in the glow of Mom’s favoritism.

It must be such an honor to be working on a novel with me. How are you dealing with your fears of unworthiness?

Considering that Dad, after a fifth of gin (or as he called it, dinner) once told me that I was only sired in case they ever needed to harvest organs for you – this is par for the course.

Can you talk a bit about the novel we are working on?

It’s a story about a girl who gets tired of living in her sister’s big-breasted shadow and involves an elaborate plot to have her declared insane and steal her money…oh wait…that’s something different I’m working on. The Girls of Shiloh is our novel, about two sisters during the Civil War and the lengths they will go to to protect, and avenge, the ones they love.

 I remember the day I came up with the idea for Girls of Shiloh. I was so excited to tell you. Do you remember that day?

My Intellectual Property lawyer has advised me not to engage you on this topic. And don’t think that I didn’t intercept that computer virus you had The Phoenix plant on my computer. Plus I have made copies of all email correspondence and sent them to various relatives across the country who hate you.

 What does your fighter pilot husband look like coming out of the shower?

You know that scene in Crazy, Stupid Love where Ryan Gosling takes his shirt off? It’s just like that.

When I put your name in four-point type on the cover, do you think Mom’s failing vision will see it as anything more than a clump of dust mites?

After contracting toxoplasmosis from handling the disgusting feces of that cat you dumped on her, I’m sure she wont be able to pause her hacking to look for it. It should be noted that I have never (not yet, anyway) dumped any of my spawn on her. Not even the illegitimate ones.

How do you plan to budget your time so you will be constantly available to my needs?

I have installed a state of the art feeding and watering system (akin to a fancy gerbil cage) in our hall closet. I’ve told the kids we’ll be playing hide and seek for a few months. They hide, and in a few months, I’ll seek them.

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§ 41 Responses to Interview With The Rabbit

  • Scott says:

    Hilarious!

  • Rohitash Rao says:

    forget the book…you two should be doing shows together. can’t you see it now: “the hepinstall sisters live at caesars palace. one night only. they don’t like each other that much to do two shows.”

  • cousin bridget says:

    Omg i am laughing so hard at you two…really i was born to the wrong family should have been aunt pollys kid we would have had a blast …no i had to fall out a limbless cooley tree that doesn’t produce fruit but instead clusters of nuts

  • Jeff says:

    Man this is funny.

  • jeff says:

    folks will be stealing these blog posts and repackaging them for TV sitcom pitches. (and the Cohen Brothers should find these very stimulating.)

  • Mark Olmsted says:

    So close, yet so far gone.
    I do think you should also do a help-yourself book: “Love is for Clods: How to Maintain Power and Manipulate Effectively in Interpersonal Relationships While Pretending to be Hysterically Funny.”

  • kelly says:

    Freaking hilarious. Nice job Hepinstalls! I love you!

  • Phoenix says:

    Maybe the two of you can get a reality show if she has a few more screaming bundles of joy – say an even dozen. The show could be called ‘Dodecahedron Mom and the Writer’. It might have legs and get popular so all your friends can join on the cast.

  • Saintly Mother says:

    To set the record straight, I conceived the Rabbit without your father’s help because I knew by then I would need sober genes to help me deal with your wicked intellect. The Rabbit makes me proud!

  • Saintly Mother says:

    There is no competition. The Rabbit makes babies and sharp comebacks, but you make more money and named me as POD on a bank account, albeit your smallest account. I remain your most devoted fan; you remain my favorite daughter.

    • About that bank account, Mom. I gave it all away to a shelter for three-legged goats. Am I still your favorite daughter?

      • Saintly Mother says:

        Well, hell. Maybe one of The Rabbit’s offspring will amount to something and, remembering how devoted their Saintly Grandmother always was to them and their precious Mother, will take care of me after Social Security goes bust.

    • The Rabbit says:

      So THAT’s how it is!! I guess I should have told you, instead of trying to shield your feelings, about that time Kathy tried to have a “Do Not Resuscitate Order” put on you when they put you under for dental surgery!

      • The Rabbit says:

        Oh, and with regards to that comment about my children taking care of you – perhaps that worm-infested cat Kathy dumped on you will be worth something…or at least tasty in a soufflé.

    • If I take the Saintly Mother fishing up here in the great northwest — salmon, steelhead, trout, even sturgeon — can I be your favorite child? That will stop all this squabbling between the wonder twins.

      On the other hand, the squabbling is damned funny, so maybe I’d rather sit back and watch. I’m looking forward to the fruits of their labors.

  • Denise says:

    great. now i’ve gone and peed my pants at work. thanks a lot, hepinstalls.

  • Rob Holliday says:

    *stands for ovation* Encore! Encore! *Rob’s wit genuflects* I’m not worthy! Best read of the day (it’s been a long day already).

  • Rich Peddy says:

    I know the Saintly Mother better than I know either of you and love her, so I believe whatever she says. Both of you are wicked, clearly. Funny too.

  • Dot Cooley says:

    I love it. Ya’ll are too funny

  • Michele Wilhite says:

    I’d forgotten how much you and The Rabbit resemble one another! Those great cheek bones! I know you are both devoted daughters even though you intimate that your Mom has some deep seated hostility toward you! Write a great book together and your Mom will adore both of you equally and everyone will live happily ever after!

  • Wait, equally? I’ll pay the old lady off under the table to prefer me, Michele! She can be bought!

  • And there’s your entire marketing package. With a pretty bow on it. I wonder if this couldn’t make the back of the cover?

  • stef-sister says:

    Oh what joy this brought me. Kath-Sister, looks like you need a new tagline for your blog, as it appears your Mother has indeed found it.

    Do you watch Downton Abbey? It’s a great period drama/soap opera. Food for the book perhaps? Not that you need it.

    I’m inspired by your wit, as well as your dysfunction.

    xoxo,

    Stef-Sister

  • The only son. says:

    If you think you can leave the most important, not to mention best looking, member of the family out of all of this….well, you’ve got another thing coming! Now I know about this silly blog! I demand recognition! After all, I am Mom’s favorite and I can prove it. When I was quite young I remember the day she gave up trying to drown me in the river by saying “Oh, that damned Kathy will only write a book about this one day!”

    I love you Tatanka…Shad.

    • Ahhhhh it’s my brother. I love you Shad. And now that you have proven that you can both turn on the internet and read, I will mentioning you all the time!

      • Saintly Mother says:

        Remember, although I keep my shotgun cocked and loaded ready to shoot anyone who criticizes MY children, I AM a proof-reader; I work cheaply (sometimes for nothing) and I detect several gramatical errors in many of the dialog exchanges from my own children. I’m just saying, I would be happy to proof any statements prior to publication. I may miss a few errors, but my true heart-felt intent would be to prevent as much snide ridicule of any of my children as possible. (There COULD possibly be a chance of over-editing.)

      • Mom it is hilarious to me that my brother has found my blog and is now writing in posing as our own dear deceased father and you think the only thing people would ridicule is our spelling. You are a true mother.

      • Saintly Mother says:

        I choose my battles, Baby; I take up only those that offer a chance of winning.

      • From the URN on the mantle. says:

        Like zero.

  • From the URN on the mantle. says:

    Now just wait a G.D. minute. You’ve got your stinking nerve. I AM THE MOST important, not to mention, best looking member of this family, and I will cycle on up there and play it by ear, if I have to. You know, we all suffer, and If you would have just taken the time to read MY blog; %$#@ I have known, you would understand that you’re a JERK. And Beckys friend has every disease known to man…What are there no olives, down here?

    • Ah, hi Dad. It is nice to know that you have been drawn to my blog from beyond the grave, not to reassure me of an afterlife or pass on any wisdom but to comment on your own importance. I notice your peculiar speech patterns are still intact and it sounds like you’re into your third or fourth gin and tonic. Visit anytime! love Kathy

  • From the URN on the mantle. says:

    I would have expected more from my only begotten child. My gin and (fill in the mixer, if none available just add ice) are nobody’s G.D. business, and besides… I have to channel through that no-good rotten son of mine, which is and has always been a total disappointment, to say the least. You know, I tried to neuter him at birth but your Mother stopped me.

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