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post #31 of 38
Originally Posted by faustian bargain
i had to mention: just now when i glanced at that sig, i thought it read "I'd rather have a good pussy than be one." which sort of goes without saying, i guess.

Well, I'll drink to that!

Pussycat might say she'd rather be a bad Pussy than a good one, except that when she's bad she's great, which ends up being kind of circular.

But in any case, let's keep at least one of our livers from going to waste for lack of amusement . . .
post #32 of 38
Chapter 5: Outtakes & Deleted Scenes

[Trent Eagleton] "The Flighted Birds' Association has grounded all flights until further notice. Only emergency flights to rescue downed fledglings are being permitted. Stay tuned for the woodlands and lakes report. This has been Trent Eagleton reporting. [deleted content follows] So, Monica, what are you doing to prepare for this big storm?"

[Monica] "Well, Trent, since our jobs as co-anchors rely on a certain sexual frisson, I thought I might keep you company at your luxuriously appointed nest on the Upper East Side, butter up some buns and uncork a bottle of Champagne, if you know what I mean . . ."

[Trent Eagleton] "Yes, I believe I do know what you mean, Monica, and the mere thought of those plump, glistening eggs of yours makes me . . . [laughing] I'm sorry, I just can't believe I've gotta say that! That is so over the top! . . ."

[Monica] "Omygod, that is so explicit! [laughing]"

[Director] "Cut!"


[Narrator] "Mama Muskrat's thoughts began to drift. She had always dreamed of being a princess [laughing] and living in a palace with a handsome prince, but the cold, hard reality was that she was a muskrat . . . [laughing] Ohmygod, this is so bad it's good . . . Who the hell writes this shit, anyway?! [laughing]"

[Director] "Cut!"


[Narrator] "Still, he was by far the handsomest muskrat in the entire Greater Woodland and Marsh area. It was his gypsy eyes [laughing] that made all the ladies [laughing] swoon . . . [laughing] Oh, sweet baby jesus! You need a damned machete to cut through the clichés. I just can't say that with a straight face."

[Director] "Cut! Come on, work with me, baby, work with me."


[Deleted scene]
Old Fox trotted home musing to himself about his encounter with Hector Muskrat moments before.

"That Hector Muskrat has some cojones! Not only did he stop me - and in this weather - but he also stood his ground when I strode straight up under his nose - "got in his face," as I suppose he would say. Any swamp bunny I've met would have bolted - and then, of course, I'd have given chase instinctively and taken him home to dinner too. Eh, he's a smart one. He knew he had me in a bargaining position and he wasn't afraid to use that to his advantage either. Snapped at me too for calling him a "swamp bunny"! Now, that certainly takes some backbone. He may be rough and uncouth, but he has enough courage to stand his ground and enough sense to speak to me in civil, and even eloquent, language. How could a parent fail to be touched by the earnestness of his question?"

Then, after a brief moment of introspection, Old Fox thought, "In the name of everything gentlemanly and sporting, I've gained a new respect for Hector Muskrat." And with this, he slid stealthily into his lair and presented the sodden-but-still-warm hare to his wife and children.

"Sorry I'm late dear," he began. "I had a most unusual encounter with Hector Muskrat on my way home. He certainly has some cojones, that swamp bunny."

"Daddy, what are cojones?" his daughter asked.

"They're tasty treats filled with yummy goodness," their mother, Mrs. Vixen, explained primly. "You'll understand when you grow up."

"Now, suck out that eyeball while it's still warm," Old Fox said in a paternally didactic tone.

Old Fox and Mrs. Vixen looked at one another slyly.

post #33 of 38
Chapter 6; Part 2: Darkest Just Before the Dawn (The Dark and Stormy Night reaches its climax)

The raging storm raged to a fever pitch of raging fury, raging furiously. When it could rage no more furiously, finally, in those darkest hours just before dawn, its raging fury's raging fury began to subside.


"Whaaa-ha-haaa, whoa-ho-ho-o-o-o, ya-ha-ha-he-he-ha-ha-haaaaa . . . whooo-hooo!" Old Snoozebag bellowed hysterically. Finally, he was all laughed out.

"Ooooh-ho-ho-ho, whoa-ho-ho-ho, aaah-ha-ha-ho-ho-he-he-he, whaaa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ho-ho-ho . . . oooh-oooh-oh!" roared Papa Muskrat, laughing himself out.

The two looked at each other, smiling deliriously. Papa Muskrat raised his glass. Just a tiny bit of single malt remained.

"To a carcass," he toasted.

Old Snoozebag raised his glass. "To the safety of your children," he toasted.

With that, they both downed what remained of their whisky.

Outside the aerie was pitch black. Not even the gusting sheets of rain that pelted the windows and swayed the limbs of the great oak were visible. The faint light cast by the covered lamp seemed to compress the entire universe into the interior of the aerie.

Drunk and pleasantly exhausted from laughing, the old vulture and the muskrat gazed silently as if into a distance that existed only inwardly, for in the dim light physical dimension seemed to fold upon itself. Chauncey, hovering in the background, refilled the tumblers.

Papa Muskrat broke the silence. "Terence, you know I'm an ornery kind of guy, so I hope you won't mind me asking something I've been wondering all evening."

"Well, Hector, considering that's the first full sentence you've uttered tonight without either cussing or back-pedalling, I suppose you've earned the right to ask whatever you see fit," the old vulture replied.

"Have you ever killed anything?" Papa Muskrat asked as delicately as he could manage.

"Yes, I have," Old Snoozebag admitted gravely, as if gazing into a great distance. "It's not easy eating the dead for a living. Sometimes, when you're circling an animal whose death is imminent and they're suffering the most horrible agonies, they beg you to put them out of their misery. At times like that, one can't help but be overwhelmed by sorrow and compassion. I've sliced the jugular vein of many a hapless creature and seen the look of gratitude in their eyes in their last few seconds of life when they realize their suffering is at an end. It certainly doesn't bring me any joy to be in the position of administering a mercy killing."

The two remained silent for a short time. Then Old Snoozebag spoke again.

"We vultures live by an unspoken code that compels us to respect life because we benefit from death. But we take no joy in suffering, and we vultures see quite enough of it." A certain world-weariness glazed the great bird's eyes. "My tastes may strike you as strangely morbid, but that's just my nature."

The two fell silently pensive for some time.

At length, Papa Muskrat spoke up. "I may swear like a sailor, but it's my nature. I'm just a muskrat, raised in a swamp. We muskrats are preyed on by a whole bunch of different critters - life is no picnic. But I can't complain," he said wistfully. He added, "And I sure do like a good single malt now and then."

"Well, Hector, I've quite enjoyed your gentlemanly company on this dark and stormy night," the old vulture said.

"Thank you, Terence. I've enjoyed your company too," said Papa Muskrat.

They fell silent, gazing drunkenly into the gloom.


Junior was pumping round after round into a family of beavers that had chanced upon the lodge, blowing them into tiny shreds of bloody meat and fur. No sooner had he reloaded the sawed-off twelve gauge than he was forced to dispatch a whole troop of marauding badgers. He scarcely had time to reload the smoking gun before he felled a mighty grizzly mere moments before its massive claws ripped into the side of his head. The surrounding landscape was incarnadined with the viscera of the hapless creatures he slaughtered in the fever pitch of his wanton killing spree.

Frank Muskrat was lying on Agnes Muskrat's bed caressing her into a delirium of ecstacy. She levelled a pair of naughty, sultry eyes at him and whispered something.

"Junior!" Frank Muskrat hollared at his son. "Shut off that damned computer and get over here!"

"Aw, Dad!?" Junior whined, "one more kill and I'll advance to the next level!"

"Dammit, Junior, your aunt Agnes wants some DP action. Now, come help your old man out and backdoor her."

"Can I shoot her?" Junior asked excitedly.

"What???" Agnes Muskrat asked in alarm.

"He means can he shoot his load up your ass?" Frank Muskrat explained.

"Oh, god yes!!" Agnes Muskrat moaned desperately.

With that, Junior rose to the occasion, and Agnes Muskrat wailed with pleasure as she fielded both well endowed muskrat men at once.


In their cozy nest in the abandoned tree, the twins were both about to score big in the wonderful game they'd discovered. It was definitely win-win.

Octavia braced herself from knocking her head against the oaken headboard of the nest as her twin brother drove his full weight against hers.

"Your brute!! You savage!!" she proclaimed in approving tones.

"You wanton, libidinous trollop," he cried, hardly understanding the words but somehow knowing they were stoking the flames of passion higher.

"Oh, kill me softly with your song!" she begged, having not the vaguest idea what the phrase meant.

"Bombs away!!!" Beauregard cried as he reached his peak of pleasure, and his twin sister wailed incoherently.

They collapsed into one another.

"I've never been loved like this before," Octavia gasped breathlessly.

"You're a woman now," Beauregard panted with manly pride.

And with that, they fell asleep locked in a sweet sticky embrace.


Stay tuned for "The Storm Surge"
post #34 of 38
oh my god.
post #35 of 38
Originally Posted by faustian bargain
oh my god.
Indeed. The next installment will wrap up the Dark and Stormy Night episode. Then we will backtrack to Chapter 3 about the Bunny family (brace yourself!). Then on to Chapter 7, the grand finale.
post #36 of 38
Like the second coming of christ this thread is back.
post #37 of 38
Oh good lord, this means I have to finish the story!?
post #38 of 38
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