Anthropomorphic 

Furry Bunny 

Character Portrait

Mitzi Midriff

In the milk-spilt mausoleum of missed opportunities otherwise known as Anthroxville, where the air crackles with the static of a million squandered could-have-beens, and the recursive mash-up of what-ifs and if-onlys ripples through the streets in a cheerless procession of lament and contemplation, the wild-eyed furry bunny, Mitzi Midriff tears through the fabric of the present with a desperation that's nothing short of demonic; a true time-tweaking madness that marks the perpetual looping mania of the damned. Whilst many, like Axel Kettlebell, openly fall to their knees and decry failed conquests, with his regular howls of “Mia Culpa!” to the moon, others such as Bernard Banjax, Zofia Squits, and Frødrik Frødrikson engage in a bizarre, almost ceremonial, hopscotch of comeuppance following their ill-fated decisions, like, for example, their repeated patronage of the Edison Upskirt's combustible Upskirt Nosher, or their opting to keep their savings at Dinero Cashmoney's Cashmoney Bank. These rituals of rue and regret are commonplace in Anthroxville, where an inordinate part of daily life involves agonizing over past mishaps and setbacks – before proceeding to repeat them, time and time again.

Mitzi, however, suffers a different affliction entirely. Known in these parts as a “moment-junkie” (a disorder coined by Earnest Wafflemonger), she engages in a rabid, breakneck pursuit of the ever-elusive 'now.' This swivel-eyed condition is so severe, that the idea of reflection is rendered an alien concept, as is the notion of satisfaction, which remains, try as one might, hopelessly unattainable. As soon as one moment is in her grasp, Mitzi is already white-knuckling it towards the next, leaving behind nothing but a cataclysm of anti-climaxes in her wake. Her life, a high-voltage, low-coherence hurtle toward... well, something. Salvation? Enlightenment? Some ultimate apex that promises deliverance but delivers only disarray—a ceaseless blitz where the promised land is always just one more mad dash away.

Carpe-dieming from one short-lived instance to another, Mitzi is never fully present, always a yolo ahead in her own storyline, somewhere between a tangential blur of the past and the gung-ho promise of some tantalizing future, constantly propelling the plot forward at all costs. That's what it's all about: the plot. In this sense, she can relate to the plight of a certain Louis Battenberg, who struggles with losing the plot on an almost hourly basis. Now, the furry bunny has the momentum, but never the moment itself. There’s never a finale, never a wrap-up, never a crescendo; just endless anticipation—with each new horizon promising the big break that inevitably falls short just as she reaches for it, leaving her to chase the next mirage in the frenetic haze of her own narrative.