She said it soft, a little breathy, with a smile in her voice. But then she added a tiny, almost imperceptible edge—a flicker of confidence behind the flirtation.
“I was seven when Space Jam came out,” the woman said, her voice shaky. “I wanted to be a girly-girl who played sports. Everyone said those things didn’t go together. But Lola did. And I heard you in her voice. Like she was talking just to me.” kath soucie lola bunny
“Put me down, Bugs. I’ve got legs.” She said it soft, a little breathy, with
Not just any rabbit. Lola Bunny.
She paused, then added her own ad-lib, channeling a little of her inner Phil DeVille’s mischief: “And if you can’t see that, you must be as blind as a mole rat in a coal mine.” “I wanted to be a girly-girl who played sports
For the next twenty minutes, Kath built Lola from the ground up. Not as a trophy. Not as a damsel. But as Bugs’ equal—a rabbit who could shoot hoops, banter with the best of them, and still melt your heart with a single syllable. She gave Lola a core of steel wrapped in velvet. A character who chose to be feminine, who wielded her charm like a hidden weapon.