The Bunny tore off his bunny suit to reveal his true identity as Blastin' Rocket Raccoon, the cybernetically-enhanced and very fierce Guardian of the Galaxy. The Bunny spun his drumsticks into a blur and suddenly he was holding a blast machine gun. Nobody calls me vermin or rodent - not unless they want five or six shots in the freakin' face from this baby.” I have plan, but I’m gonna need a few things. There was no mistaking what he was saying: Haglund pulled out his opera glasses to focus on The Bunny so that he could read his lips. He seemed suddenly full of rage and was speaking forcefully to no one in particular. But what was he saying? The Bunny’s anger seemed to be growing and growing. Suddenly, The Bunny began pacing back and forth upstage, banging his little drum, and his lips were moving angrily. Tiny soldiers were picked up handily by the big rats and carried off stage to face their demise or be delivered to a dressing room to change into their Act II costumes. The toy soldiers were doing their best to beat them back through precision drilled musket firing while on their bellies, but there were plenty of casualties throughout the ranks.

Oh, you haven’t heard?Īs fully expected, the Rat Patrol barged in and began wrecking havoc throughout little Marie’s Christmas Eve dream. In nearly a century of covering the goriest of Nutcracker battles, we’ve never come across anything quite like this before. We wouldn’t believe the story ourselves if we hadn’t been there last night and seen it with our own eyes.

They didn’t like what went down last night at the opening performance of New York City Ballet’s The Nutcracker. This story hasn’t made The New York Times yet, but there has been plenty of vitriol spewed by those guys Brux & Boggle on WRAT Talk Radio.

With rare oedipe paris opera pulls