In Burrow 88, Briar Road, Swifton, lived a very reclusive rabbit. He didn't receive any visitors, had no friends, and was never interested in talking to anyone.

His neighbours were used to it and said he was scatterbrained and spacey, with his head in the clouds, but it was understandable, because he was a poet.

He was the famous poet and writer Fuzz McFlops.

Fuzz had been a loner ever since he was a little rabbit, when his classmates used to tease him for having one ear shorter than the other.

Being different had always been a problem, and things got even worse when it was decided that Fuzz would have to wear a special device to stretch out his short ear.

It was called an Earlongator. It was large, heavy and awkward. And, worst of all, it made no difference. All his suffering was in vain. No one knew exactly why, but the device, which worked so well on other young bunnies, didn't on Fuzz. His short ear stayed short.

One day, when Fuzz was already a famous poet, he decided to tell everyone his sad life story. He was going to write his autobiography.

The poet-rabbit made himself a cup of coffee, sat down in front of his typewriter and began:

Chapter 1 - Childhood

My name is Fuzz. I am a poet and a writer.

I am a loner and don't like to leave my burrow. When I was young, I had a hard time because one of my ears was shorter than the other. My classmates always made fun of me ...

Fuzz remembered an old piece of paper that had been in his drawer for the longest time, and placed it on the desk next to the typewriter. It was the instruction manual for the Earlongator. It reminded him of his childhood.

At that moment, his thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell. It was the post-bunny, with an enormous pile of letters. Fuzz received lots, but he never read them. In fact, he didn't even open them and just tossed them in a trunk.

This day, however, one envelope caught Fuzz's eye: it was large, violet and tied with a silk ribbon. He opened it and read:

Fuzz McFlops Burrow 88, Briar Road, Swifton

20th February

Dear Mr McFlops,

My name is Charlotte and I am a great admirer of your talent and poems, But, if you will allow me, there are a few that I don't like at all. I really have a problem with the story of the Back-to-Front Princess'! For heavens sake, what a dreadful ending! Here it is:

The back-to-front princess lives not in a tower. The bottom of the well's her uncomfortable lair.

She waits for prince charming, who isn't all that bright, to toss her a rope, rather than let down her hair.

When the moment arrives, the back-to-front maiden, with a tug and a topple, her prince doth ensnare.

Cold, and rather hungry, the unfortunate couple live unhappily ever after, down there.

With all due respect, it's such a pessimistic story! I hate the sad, dramatic ending. The poor things! Please find below my continuation of the poem, in which I have changed their fate.

No one knows how it happened, but salvation was nigh. Out of the blue there came an answer to their prayers.

They bid the well goodbye, with its smell of mould and its layer of scum: a truly gloomy affair.

They packed up their junk, belongings and kids, and in a jet plane they took to the air.

They went not to a tower, and not to the moon. On the Earth they stayed, feet planted, fair and square.

They bought a lovely house overlooking the sea and lived forever by the beach, in deck chairs.

What do you think? They'll be much happier now, won't they?

I hope you're not offended by this.

Yours faithfully, Charlotte Passe-Partout

When Fuzz finished reading, his right ear (the short one) started to twitch. Whenever he got upset his ear would twitch uncontrollably. Unfortunately, besides having one ear shorter than the other, he also suffered from earspasmitis.

The letter had really distressed Fuzz. A famous rabbit like him wasn't used to people saying they didn't like his work so blatantly.

Who was that Charlotte, who had the courage to talk to him like that? And to change the end of his story to boot? What cheek! Fuzz decided not to dignify her letter with a reply. He screwed it up and threw it away.

The letter ended up in the bin, but not its contents. Fuzz couldn't forget what Charlotte had said. Was it possible that she was right? Was he really that pessimistic?

He thought about the titles of his books: The Withered Carrot, The Veggie Patch Behind Bars, Red Eyes, The Unlucky Rabbit's Foot, Unhappy Easter.

He began to question himself. He fished the letter out of the bin, smoothed it out, and read and reread it about fifteen times. Now that he thought about it, Charlotte's sincerity was actually a good thing. It's easier to trust people who speak their mind. He put the creased letter in his desk drawer.

It took Fuzz a good while to forget the matter but when he finally did, another violet envelope arrived. He read the letter.