(This is a fictional poem)

He tried to steal people's cereal and that was a bad habit.
I grabbed my shotgun and I took care of that damn rabbit.
I fired my gun and turned him into goo.
Tonight I will be dining on rabbit stew.
He was wearing a disguise but I knew it was him.
When he grabbed my Trix, his future became grim.
He started hopping around my kitchen and his long ears came flopping out.
He thought I was a bad shot but he didn't know what he was talking about.
Some people are very upset at me, they say that shooting him was a sin.
They should be thankful because they'll never be pestered by him again.