The very fluffiest bunny in the forest was a bunny named Darren.
One day, he was overcome by a tidal wave of nihilistic ennui.
"What's the matter," asked his friend Geoff The Shortest Giraffe, "is it the political climate?"
"I suppose," said Darren, "I do object to being given a choice between locking leverets in cages or boxes."
"And then if I decide that I want no part in that system, I'm branded a villain for not exercising my civic duties.... but that's not it."
"Are you worried about the state of culture?" asked Mary-Anne, a mongoose who had once killed a man just to see what it felt like.
"I'm worried about the death of culture!" Darren exclaimed, "What if remix culture is in an out-of-control spiral of diminishing returns? What if the predicted Rapture marked the point where the last subculture was co-opted by corporate raiders, and now we're all in Hell? What if the Devil has all the best tunes because they were licensed for advertisements?"
Darren, Geoff and Mary-Anne sat in silence. These thoughts depressed them like a weird Swedish massage. The one where they do your armpits.
"Maybe we should go see Cornelius, the Wise Owl?" pondered Darren ponderously. "He's been around the block a few times. Sexually, I mean."
But Cornelius' extreme promiscuity was second only to his extreme wisdom, and so the trio popped around for a cuppa.
"Oh wow, thanks for bringing me this bringdown, Captains Bringdown. Much appreciated," said Cornelius upon hearing their woes, "NOT."
"Shut up and listen for a second," the wise old owl thundered, "S is F'd up all over, okay, but you have to believe it will get better. The inevitable heat death of the universe is still some time away, so we have to make of this world what we can. We can create a better world, and we can imagine new and amazing art, if we set our minds to it."
"Thank you, Cornelius, you wise old soul/owl," Darren, Geoff and Mary-Anne said simultaneously in kind of a creepy fashion.
And with that, they returned to the centre of the forest to draw up plans for a brighter tomorrow.
A TOMORROW WHICH NEVER CAME BECAUSE THE FOREST WAS BULLDOZED TO PUT IN TRACT HOUSING.