Peter Rabbit, Based on the Movie

by Frederick Warne

  “I think she just has a thing for those rabbits,” says Chris.

  “So how do I ‘launch’ them?” asks McGregor. He’s so eager for the rabbits to be gone that Thomas ignores the fact Bea has a very big soft spot for the vermin that are making his life tough.

  “Launch ’em or keep ’em out? Electric fence’ll keep ’em out. To launch ’em you’ll need some firepower,” explains Chris.

  Phil makes the sound of an explosion. A big explosion.

  Just then, McGregor sees something out the window. It’s his truck and all five rabbits are visible, peeking out from the back.

  McGregor barges out of the store and rips the sacks from the back of the truck. But the rabbits are gone. He then tears through everything in his truck, trying to catch those wretched vermin. All the while, he is being watched by the hardware clerks, Chris and Phil.

  “Rah-bbits!” yells McGregor into the sky.

  But Peter, Benjamin, and the triplets are nowhere to be found. Unless you were looking somewhere else. Somewhere covered in darkness except for a narrow shaft of light. The bunnies are towering one on top of each other, and guess who is at the bottom. They are breathing heavily, knowing they have just gotten away with their lives. Yet again.

  Just then, a small package makes its way through the shaft of light. It gets jammed in between Flopsy’s face and the wall. The rabbits have jumped inside a mailbox!

  “Why am I always on the bottom?” moans Flopsy.

  Meanwhile, McGregor charges back into the hardware store. Enough is enough.

  “Give me everything you’ve got.”

  “Follow me,” says Phil.

  The two men head to the back of the store— after McGregor stops to straighten some of the items on the shelves, of course.

  “You really should arrange these in order of color palette,” he tuts.

  Back in the mailbox, Peter’s face peeks from the slot. He looks both ways and then hops out, followed by all the others.

  McGregor returns to his truck with an armload of boxes. He dumps them in the back.

  “Make sure you keep the explosives separate. You push this, this lights, and these go boom,” says Chris cautiously, holding the remote-control ignitor and detonator.

  “I understand the fundamental concepts of basic things. Thank you very much,” says a flustered McGregor.

  The truck starts to move. The rabbits are out of sight, standing way too close to the wheels of the truck. As they begin to turn under their feet, Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail panic a little.

  “Just match its speed,” Peter helpfully instructs the others. “Our natural rabbits’ pace should be able to keep up with—”

  But before Peter can finish offering his help, the five rabbits shoot out of the back of the truck. They land in a heap against a fence.

  “Interesting,” says Peter, rubbing his head.

  There is a screeching of tires and the bunnies look up in time to see McGregor almost hit a couple of pedestrians, who are wearing shoes that are far too shiny for the country.

  “Watch it, boxhead!” the man yells while slapping the hood of McGregor’s truck.

  “Leave him alone, babe,” says the woman. “He’s just a country bumpkin.” She has a snooty voice that sounds very much like it is from the city.

  “A bumpkin?” McGregor repeats to himself as the couple stalk off. He watches them go before a voice interrupts his thoughts.

  “Thomas?” It’s Bea on her bicycle.

  Peter and the others watch as she and Thomas start talking and smiling at each other. Peter can’t help but look from Bea to McGregor and back to Bea. What is happening? Why are they smiling like that?

  McGregor opens the truck door and gets out. He puts Bea’s bike in the back next to the boxes.

  “Oh no, he’s stealing her bike!” says Benjamin in alarm.

  But then, McGregor opens the truck door.

  “Oh no, he’s stealing her!” says Benjamin in even more alarm.

  But Bea is smiling as she gets in.

  “Oh no, she’s going willingly and seems to be enjoying his company!” says Benjamin. He’s more alarmed than he has ever been.

  Peter watches with hardened eyes as his sworn enemy and the woman who is a part of his family become friends. Thomas gets back into the truck and starts the engine.

  “Come on,” Peter says, unable to keep the hurt from his voice. The rabbits jump into the back of the truck, hiding themselves under the sacks.

  The truck heads toward McGregor’s manor. Bea and Thomas continue to chat the whole way home.

  “That’s a lot of smiling. More than before even,” says Flopsy as the rabbits watch the two humans from the back of the truck.

  “She is showing more teeth,” adds Cotton-tail.

  “Must mean she likes him,” says Mopsy.

  “Awww,” say the triplets at the same time.

  “No awww,” Peter cuts in. “She doesn’t like him. She’s just really nice. She smiles at us all the time.”

  Bea gives McGregor a smile that the rabbits have never seen before.

  “Not like that, she doesn’t,” says Benjamin.

  Peter looks back at Bea and the new McGregor. Peter does not like what is going on. Now, he just has to figure out how to stop it.

  Chapter Nine

  NEW BEST FRIENDS?

  The truck stops outside Bea’s cottage. McGregor and Bea head inside. The rabbits jump out of the truck and shimmy up the side of the cottage, eager to listen in. They land with a light thud on the glass roof of Bea’s conservatory. The rabbits want to see everything that is going on between their beloved Bea and McGregor.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Bea asks McGregor.

  “Yes, thanks. Are these yours?” McGregor points to the paintings scattered around the room.

  “Yes, but they’re not very good,” says Bea, rushing over to try to cover the painting that McGregor is looking at.

  “This is beautiful. What a majestic mountain,” he says, tilting his head.

  “It’s an old woman in a hat,” says Bea, correcting him.

  “Ah, yes. I see,” says McGregor. He tries but is having trouble seeing the woman, or the hat.

  “What about these?” he asks, when he notices Bea’s paintings of rabbits.

  “Oh, that’s just for fun. It’s what I paint to avoid working on my real stuff,” says Bea.

  “These . . . these are wonderful,” says McGregor as he looks through the stack of bunny paintings.

  “You don’t have to say that,” says Bea. She finds it difficult to accept compliments about her work.

  “It just shows how good they are if I like them, given how much I hate rabbits. Somehow, you manage to make them not look like the vermin they are.”

  “You think rabbits are vermin?” asks Bea. She really hopes Thomas is joking. It would be terrible if he hated rabbits!

  “Yes. That was a joke. I’m hilarious. And whimsical,” says McGregor hastily. He doesn’t want Bea to stop smiling at him.

  “Rabbits are perfect creatures. They’re generous. Honest. Pure. You should see the way they act toward each other. They do this incredible thing when they’re apologizing.”

  “Apologizing? Rabbits apologize?” Thomas does not believe it. How can rabbits apologize?

  “They’re very emotional, intuitive little things. They put their heads together like this.” Bea puts her forehead on McGregor’s forehead. “Anyway,” says Bea, breaking eye contact. “You’ll see. You’ll grow to love them.”

  She pours out some blackberry spa water.

  “I’m allergic to blackberries,” says McGregor, dragging his eyes from Bea’s beautiful face to stare at the glass in front of him. “My throat swells up, I get all purple and blotchy. Like an actual blackberry.”

&nbs
p; “Well, we don’t want that to happen,” says Bea, taking out the berries and tossing them in the garbage. Peter can’t believe it. Those were delicious-looking blackberries! He lunges at the window but Benjamin grabs him and holds him back.

  Bea refills Thomas’s glass and his hand brushes against hers. Bea and Thomas look at each other and smile.

  The next day, McGregor and Bea hire a rowboat and glide across a dazzling lake. The pair can’t stop smiling at each other, laughing together and holding hands. Later, Bea rides her bike with McGregor balanced in the front basket. They both look deliriously happy. All the rabbits can do is watch sadly from a nearby wall.

  A day later Bea and McGregor are sitting by the lake playing BananaGrams™. Each is just as good as the other at using their letter tiles.

  McGregor is halfway through telling Bea about his childhood.

  “. . . my parents died and I had to move into a group home. That’s why I never knew my great-uncle.”

  “That must’ve been traumatic. Did you deal with it OK?”

  “Didn’t affect me in the slightest,” says McGregor. He’s moved all the tiles into a perfectly straight line.

  “I can see that,” says Bea, not entirely convinced. Thomas notices his tiles have spelled out ALONE, ABANDON, MOMMY, WHY, BROKEN, and HELP.

  “I may have some tendencies,” Mr. McGregor acknowledges.

  “We all have tendencies,” replies Bea, kindly.

  “Yeah? What are yours?” says McGregor. Looking at her, Thomas can’t imagine Bea being anything other than perfect.

  “I guess I have a hard time with people who aren’t who they say they are,” says Bea.

  “You must hate Halloween,” Thomas smiles.

  “It’s more about me. I keep calling myself a painter, but I can’t finish anything real. I think it might be time to face up and go back to real life,” she says.

  McGregor pokes himself in the arm.

  “Seems real enough to me.”

  Bea smiles at him, at his lovely face, his lovely smile, his lovely hair. He is just . . . lovely.

  “We all have a place where we belong in this world. Some of us are just luckier than others in finding it,” says Bea. “Bananas.”

  “Nooooo!” says Thomas, he’s not happy that it looks like Bea has won the game. He checks her tiles,

  “Is taradiddle a word?” he asks, doubtfully.

  “Yes. A fib. Pretentious nonsense,” Bea replies.

  “That’s exactly the definition you’d make up for a made-up word!” says Thomas.

  “Mr. McGregor. Are you accusing me of taradiddling?” says Bea, laughing.

  The rabbits watch as, over the next few days, Bea and McGregor begin to fall in love. The bunnies don’t want to believe it, but it’s obvious.

  One afternoon, Peter decides to take action. When the heavens open and sheets of rain soak through everything, Bea and McGregor make a dash for cover. Once they are safely inside the cottage, the door bangs shut. Peter, the triplets, and Benjamin are left outside: cold, wet, and feeling neglected.

  Drenched and miserable, the rabbits peer through the window. Bea is using her fluffiest towel to dry McGregor’s hair. Peter can’t believe it. That’s his towel! Peter’s eyes narrow on McGregor, the man who is slowly taking Bea away from them.

  Peter continues to stare longingly into the cottage. Bea heads into the kitchen, leaving McGregor alone in the glass conservatory. The towel is still draped over his head. Thomas can’t see through the towel, he’s completely blind. This is the time for Peter to make his move. He pushes his way past the door and runs full speed at an unsuspecting McGregor. Just as Peter is about to hit his target, two hands swoop down and pick him up.

  “Sweetie! I haven’t seen you in forever,” says Bea, back from the kitchen, as she hugs our hero.

  McGregor pulls the towel from his face so he can see what is going on. He is very surprised to see Peter in Bea’s arms.

  “Say hello to my friend, Thomas. He really is much better than the old one,” Bea whispers into Peter’s ear.

  “Wanna hold him?” she asks McGregor.

  “Very much so,” says McGregor with a smile plastered to his face. Bea hands Peter to McGregor, who holds the rabbit at arm’s length, like someone would hold a baby who has just pooped everywhere. It doesn’t look very comfortable for McGregor or Peter.

  “Aw, my two boys are getting along. Nothing could make me happier,” says Bea, smiling. She doesn’t notice how uncomfortable Thomas and Peter look in each other’s company. “I need to paint this.”

  She rushes from the room, leaving Peter in McGregor’s hands. Rabbit and human eye each other up and down, as if they are two boxers about to get into the ring.

  “You’re mine now, rah-bbit!” McGregor says slowly, staring at Peter. Peter stares back.

  Before they know what is happening, the pair start wrestling with each other. They hurtle across the room until Bea walks back in. Then they quickly force themselves into a pose much like a father playing with his son. Peter is on McGregor’s shoulders, legs wrapped around his neck. Bea smiles, happy to see her boys getting along.

  “Thomas, are your eyes cobalt or winter blue?” asks Bea.

  “Winter blue,” says McGregor as he catches his breath.

  Bea leaves the room, and it’s on again. McGregor swings a nearby mop, narrowly missing Peter once, then twice. The third strike sends Peter flying. He lands on a wheely chair that hurtles straight at McGregor. Peter takes a deep breath and leaps into the air. He snatches the mop from Thomas’s hands and in the same swoop hits him on the bottom. McGregor falls to the ground and Peter bounces about the room before landing on his face. The two arch enemies shove and push and pull.

  From outside the cottage, Benjamin and the triplets are watching the fight unfold. They cheer when Peter lands a blow, and wince when he doesn’t. There’s a lot of cheering and wincing going on.

  Back inside the cottage, McGregor flings Peter to the ground and lands on top of him like a wrestler. Peter manages to wriggle his way free and finds himself on top of McGregor this time. But McGregor will not be stopped. He squishes Peter up against the window with his bottom just as Bea comes back into the room with some paint. She looks at her best boys and sees that they are cuddling.

  “How sweet.” She smiles in their direction.

  “Yes. Isn’t it sweet?” McGregor says through gritted teeth.

  “See? They’re not vermin. I could never like anyone who doesn’t like my rabbits,” says Bea, before leaving the room again.

  Peter bites McGregor’s hand and is free at last. He propels himself once more around the ceiling lamp and back at McGregor. But Thomas catches the rabbit and throws him down onto the table, pinning Peter to the table with a wet paintbrush. A wet paintbrush that now smears wet paint across one of Bea’s in-progress paintings.

  “What’s going on? My painting!” says Bea suddenly, looking from her ruined canvas to Peter, who is standing next to it, with the wet paintbrush in his paw.

  “You know how uncontrollable wildlife can be,” says McGregor, shaking his head as if he is very disappointed with Peter.

  Bea hurries over and shoos Peter out.

  “Shoo! Bad rabbit. Shoo.”

  Shoo?! Peter can’t believe it. He looks back to see McGregor smiling slyly at him.

  “I know you like them, but really, they’re animals,” says McGregor, shaking his head sadly.

  Bea doesn’t respond. She just closes the door in Peter’s face. The slam echoes in Peter’s mind as he hangs his head, crushed.

  “Did you just get shoo’d?” says Cotton-tail in disbelief. Peter joins his family back outside, in the pouring rain.

  “It looks like he’s getting pretty cozy with her,” says Benjamin.

  But Peter isn’t interested in how cozy they look. P
eter is only interested in one thing.

  “He’s gotta go.”

  Chapter Ten

  A RABBIT’S REVENGE

  The next morning JW Rooster III wakes everyone up, he can’t believe it’s a whole new day,

  “You have got to be kidding me! Again? How long does this sweet life last? Everybody wake up! You’re not going to believe this!”

  The rabbits all walk across the field, their battle faces on. They are cool and they are tough. Peter has them all stretch before they run sprints. Flopsy is always last across the line, as usual.

  Then it’s time for an obstacle course. The rabbits crawl, hop, roll, and fight their way through the challenges, even practicing how to set and avoid traps. Flopsy is, again, always last across the finish line.

  The training doesn’t stop there. Peter constructs five life-size dummies of McGregor. The rabbits each take up a slingshot and small pebbles. They all hit their target, except Flopsy. Her first pebble goes this way. Her next pebble goes that way. Her third pebble goes way over there.

  Poor Flopsy.

  “It’s OK, Flopsy. You can carry the pebbles,” says Mopsy.

  Flopsy, not happy with Mopsy’s offer, turns her slingshot toward her sister. It misses Mopsy by a mile. Poor Flopsy. A flock of sparrows flies across the sky. They are quickly knocked down by one of Flopsy’s shots. Still, the training carries on.

  As the bunnies continue to shoot and pummel the dummies, Benjamin walks up to Peter.

  “Traps, slingshots. You sure you know what you’re doing?”

  “We’re getting our garden back,” says a determined Peter.

  “Is that really what this is about? She’s not going to love us any less if she’s with him,” says Benjamin. It’s like Benjamin can see exactly what is going on in his cousin’s head—and heart.

  “What are you talking about?” asks Peter. He would never admit to such things. “Just let me handle this.”

  “You know we’ll do anything for you, Peter. But just remember what that means,” says Benjamin, looking over at Peter’s sisters. Peter follows Benjamin’s gaze. The girls are giving it their all, attacking the dummies like mad dogs. Peter realizes he is putting his family at risk.