Mama Bunny, a plump, cheerful matriarch in a grass skirt and a bright flower behind her ear, darts around adjusting the decorations, her nose twitching with anticipation. Papa Bunny, tall and jovial, busies himself at the spit, basting the roasted wolf with a pineapple glaze, humming along to ukulele tunes playing from a bamboo speaker. Lulu, their teenage daughter with oversized ears and a mischievous grin, helps set the long tables with coconut cups and leafy plates. "Lulu, careful with those pineapples! We want everything perfect before the guests arrive." "Relax, Mama. No one's coming for the centerpieces—they're here for the feast!"

Uncle Thumper arrives first, donning a coconut bra and grass hat, cracking jokes about his hula skills. Aunt Petunia follows, arms laden with banana bread and her twin kits, Pip and Poppy, who zoom around the tables in a blur. "Who’s ready to shake their cottontails? I’ve been practicing all winter!" "Thumper, you’d shake the fruit right off the trees if you’re not careful!" "Welcome, welcome! Grab a lei and make yourselves at home. Dinner’s nearly ready."

"Lulu! Watch the fire—Papa, is the wolf done yet? The glaze must caramelize just right!" "If I baste any more, he’ll be candied. Give it another five minutes, love." "Mama, the twins are poking the poke!" "Pip, Poppy! Out of the kitchen, or you’ll be dessert!" The air is thick with the sweet, smoky perfume of roasting meat, punctuated by the bubbling laughter of nearby guests.

"Alright, everyone, it’s almost time! Just a few more minutes—patience, please!" "I’ve never seen so many hungry bunnies in one place. If you wait much longer, Papa, someone might nibble the table legs!" A sudden pop from the kitchen sends Lulu scrambling to rescue the coconut pudding, narrowly avoiding disaster as Aunt Petunia swoops in to help.

"Friends, family—let the Great Rabbit Luau begin!" "Dig in while it’s hot! There’s plenty for all—don’t be shy!" Lulu leads the charge with the first slice, and plates fill as laughter and chatter erupt around the tables, the tension melting away in a wave of satisfaction.

"Now that’s what I call a feast! Who’s up for a hula contest?" "Me! Watch my twirl, Auntie!" "Best luau ever, Mama." "Thank you, darling. Next year, you’re in charge of the pudding." The night ends with laughter echoing into the stars, contented sighs, and the gentle strum of a ukulele as the rabbits bask in the glow of their wildly successful celebration.