They came out of the woods every night, invading the lawn. Dean watched them from the window as they slowly approached the house. He knew they were dangerous and that only he stood between them and his family.
The time would come when Dean would be outside waiting for them. They would not know what hit them. As they slowly loped toward the house, he would lie in wait, hidden by tall grass, and then *BOOM*, he would pounce on them.
He played it out in his head every evening when they came out to feast. Every time it ended in bunny carnage all over the lawn. There was no doubt in his mind that no bunny would escape him. After all, he was the supreme warrior, the master hunter; not a single piece of string or stray rubber band escaped his agile leaps. He was born to hunt and those bunnies would soon find out just how dangerous a predator he was.
Soon enough, the moment came when Dean slipped out of the house and took up residence in the tall grass. He waited patiently for the bunnies to edge their way out of the woods and come close to the house. When they were close enough, he sprung into action, nearly landing on the closest bunny before they all took off running back to the tree line.
He followed the nearest bunny, nearly catching it a few times before it entered the safety of the underbrush. He slipped into the bushes after it but found only a deep hole in the ground. He had no inclination to go into that dark, dark hole.