Then again, thought Stejar, if there'd be a pobbit called, lets say, Pop, he would have a sister called Crackle and yet another one named as Snap. Especially she could be a vicious one and lock poor Pop inside a flower press. Little pobbit would look like totally different and his mother wouldn't recognize him.
So he would spend his life alone, inside a vitrine in some distant museum shown as, lets say, the world's only speaking lottery token. There he would be, shouting vigorously I'm not a speaking lottery token, I'm a pobbit!, but nobody would care and a tourist called Jörgen Pettersen would just smile and take a photo and show it to his neighbours and say look how cute speaking lottery token we saw in the distant museum far away and they would all smile and nod, but nobody would remember what the photo was all about after Mrs Pettersen's tasty cinnamon bun. So, better not to breed ponies and rabbits after all.
