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Correcting FlippersScrunchdown Bunny and the Flippers
"Flippers are very smart, aren't they...?" Mish commented one day, as he and Scrunchdown watched some dolphins at play.
"Not as smart as they look," Scrunchdown corrected him. "And they don't look very smart. They are playful but they're noisy, and really aren't good for very much. Thething they are smart at is avoiding any kind of honest work, and they try to do this by looking cute and chattering away like monkeys in a zoo. I for one intend to put a stop to all this nonsense about flippers!"
"I...I...didn't know...." Mish the Duck was clearly embarrassed. "I was just repeating what I'd gathered from the new age press. But how do you plan to deal with their bad behavior patterns?"
"Pogo Sticks!?!" Mish gasped. "B..But, How?! How can Pogo Sticks help?"
"I think, fearless Mish, that I shall leave the explanation to Mr. Little Bear, for it is he who engineered t
Ode to MeowThe Ode to Meow, the Mouseless Kitty
"If I go for the butter, it means I have to hawk-up a hair ball," said Meow to Mish one fine day.
"Perhaps I haven't introduced you properly," Scrunchdown interjected, "so Mish, please meet Meow, the mouseless cat."
"Oh, my!" Mish regarded the Meow with genuine concern, "Is it bad to be a mouseless cat?"
"Heh, heh, heh," Scrunchdown chuckled, "Normally that would be the case, oh Mightiest of all Ducks, but this is a very special Meow, and perhaps she would tell you why..."
"Please do," Mish encouraged the stalwart feline.
"You see," Meow began, "I am a hunter of Rhinoceri, and if you could see my trophy room, you would see I am highly successful. Generally you will not find a Rhinoceros within three miles of me, because as stupid as they are, they know better."
"Well, let us do just that! Let us have a look at your trophy room!" Mish exclaimed, and he, the Scrunchdown Bunny, and the Meow all clambered into Scrunchdown's marvelous Studebaker and moto
Scrunchdown Battles the PoetsSCRUNCHDOWN'S WAR AGAINST THE POETS
Get all the data recorded!
I am speaking to you officially now!
Pushed and terrorized by hoodlum poets, Scrunchdown Bunny read them the riot act. And you guessed it, it was in poetic form.
A freedom not rooted
in the art of striptease
and to remain seated
while others are stripped
by gangrenous Geishas
and Japanese Gangsters
a-looking for monsters.....
and saxaphone players
drummed out of the Corp
by Lecherous Lichen
that suck out the life-stuff
from seedy-eyed felons
a-riding like crazy
upon hand-picked melons
and sneaking 'round corners
with fingers all flashing
and spitting out death
from fired-up Froggies
the poets all chattered
like so many monkeys
who flayed like a lamb
with barbells still pending....
AND THEY KNEW THAT SCRUNCHDOWN BUNNY KNEW....
That Scrunchdown Bunny knew.....
That only one hero
could stand up and stop them
the frothing-mouthed poets
the performance artists
the mimes and Theth-Peons,
that only one far
ReflectionsVal's pursuit led him to the foul beast's domain. The hollowed-out cavern reeked of blood and rancid meat. The dim light he had seen as he charged through the tunnel after the monster could now be identified: torches. Rows of mysteriously lit torches lined the walls of the huge cave. At its center was a substantially large labyrinth of mirrors.
He spotted the beast entering.
He spun his silver broadsword in his hand and hurried in behind it.
His garb was a simple blue and white crusader's leather with thick armored pads and reinforcing steel studs. Lightweight and flexible, but quite effective defense against blunt blows and – in a pinch – the slashing claws of the unholy spawn of the earth. All monster-hunters wore a similar variety in Val's experience. It would serve him well in these close quarters of the mirrored maze.
Right, left, forward, left, right he turned, always catching a glimpse of the beast's tail as he wove his way through the corridors. Every so often he sp
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