The weasel had him cornered now. Drawing out his scimitar, the insatiable rodent charged at him, hacking and slashing.
Every thrust, every cut was skillfully blocked by his rapier. Sometimes, ingenuity is born from desperation. Sometimes, a rabbit with his back against a wall can out-maneuver a weasel raider.
The Rabbit thought of his family at home. Fourteen kids and a wife to boot. If he didn't make it home, what would happen to them? He thought of his country. They needed him now. If there was a nobler cause for which to die, he did not know of it.
He pushed back, swinging his rapier faster and faster until it became a blur of light, barely glancing off of the weasel's surprised attempts to parry.
Fourteen kids and a wife to boot? Shouldn't it be the opposite? A wife and fourteen kids to boot. I mean if there's no wife there's probably not going to be fourteen kids. In any case, I like it. The weasel made me think of Reepicheep.
ReplyDeleteWell, thanks. I wrote it because I used to read Redwall. Redwall is awesome.
ReplyDeleteCan I reiterate that Redwall shaped my childhood? It was full of this stuff! WHEEEE yes rabbits fighting weasels and foxes and then badgers and otters come in and they're whuppin' tricks.
And I wrote this in five minutes, so I officially don't care about "fourteen kids and a wife to boot." Apparently he doesn't value his wife very highly. Maybe I'm a closet misogynist. Who KNOWS? I don't.
Yeah, I can see the resemblance. I'm proud of your ability to "officially not care." That's what I do. I have to. (Case in point: the mad report.) You have a very big closet.
ReplyDeleteAnyhow, this post made me smile.
I like your second to last sentence up there. "You have a very big closet." Ouch.
ReplyDeleteSorry.
ReplyDelete