The Hare Ch. 6

The Hare shot up *ba-zing!* and started spewing random facts at Magnum.
"The-square-root-of-pi-is-apple-flour-crispy-crust. Don't-look-a-shark-in-the-eyes-or-he'll-shrivel-into-salt. Bengal-tigers-have-8-toes..."

Magnum watched as The Hare's eyes got bigger and rounder and rolly-er (it is SO a word. Look it up. No, don't. Just continue reading). He was really questioning the validity of these facts, when The Hare seemed to get stuck.

"...Have-you-ever-seen-a-piano-fly? Of-course-you-haven't-don't-be-vain-vain-vain-vain-"
Magnum gave him a gentle bop on the nose with his helmet. (Don't worry. It didn't hurt. You must remember that Fleablers' helmets weigh no more than that piece of dust you see flying in the air before you now.) It weighed just enough to zip The Hare out of his repetition.

"I say!" he declared. "That was quite unnecessary. Ouch, that smarts."
"Did you become British in the last few seconds? And that did not hurt. Don't be a baby."
"Oy! 'ow dare you accuse me of bein' a baby!" The Hare still spoke in a British accent, only it had shifted from a high class British accent to a Cockney one. Or perhaps it was Australian. Magnum wasn't quite sure.
"I'm just going to ignore that. Why did you just call yourself a Fleabler? Judging from your height, fur, and badge that says 'I am a Hare, not a Fleabler', you are, in fact, a hare. Not a Fleabler."
"I never said that!" Iranian accent
"Yes you did!"
"Did not!" Southern accent
"Which one of us has that nasty bump on his head?"
"You." Sign Language
"Nice try. You're obviously not well if you keep switching languages like- Holy Macaroni!" Here, Magnum had a rather epiphanous epiphany (Look, if you keep challenging me on the words I use, we'll never finish this story. Which one of us is the writer here? Don't answer that.) The Hare must be one of a long line of Royal Bunnies! Magnum thought. The reigning family of Haredom! This might even be the prince! (Or at least a distant cousin.) Only royalty knew so many languages! (Or accents anyway.)

"I do not mean to interrupt, but what just happened in your head?" French accent. (Accen'!)
Magnum considered not saying anything, but decided that perhaps this Hare could bring peace betwixt their two rival tribes!
"Well..."

The Hare: Ch. 5

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for this service message. We at The Birthday Skunks do not endorse Fleabler cruelty in anyway. Please do not harm your fleas. Thank you.

A crashed hair! I mean, Hare! His tiny little jet was crumpled and smoking and the Hare was toppled over out of it, one leg bent inside. He looked like a rag doll minus the stuffing. When Magnum saw this horrendous crash site, his tiny Fleabler heart swelled with compassion and terror. And that's a lot of stress to put on a heart that could fit inside of a freckle.
The Hare groaned and turned towards Magnum. He was wearing goggles and a silk scarf.
"AAAIIEEEEE!!!!!" the Fleabler shrieked in terror.
"AAAIIEEEEE!!!!!" the Hare replied.
"Why are you screaming?!" Magnum wailed.
"I don't know! Why are you screaming?!" the Hare replied.
They both stopped screaming.
"I think I broked my leg," said the Hare.
"Broked? I think you might have sustained a head injury as well."
"Ha! That's what you think! We Fleablers don't get hurt!"
"...FLEABLERS??" Magnum wondered.
He slowly began to realize that the Hare must have really bumped his head and now thought he was a Fleabler! What was a Flea to do...
. . .
Magnum yelled "SHOTGUN!" (which is a phrase you can yell almost anywhere except a crowded music theater - i cannot take credit for that . . . im watching psych.) Anyways, after Magnum yelled shotgun for reasons unknown to me. . .the hare who now thinks he's a Fleabler fainted. Magnum inched closer to the hare. He reached the hare's ears first, which seemed normal, then he tippy toed down the ears to the face. Then suddenly . . .

The Hare: Ch. 4

"Yes, Monticello," Jacopo began.
He, unfortunately never got a chance to find out what Monticello had been prepared to propose. For at that very second, a brigade of minuscule carrots began raining down on the delicate little Fleablers! They heard a fierce cackling as jet-flying, dive-bombing, carrot-flinging Rabbitteers (that is to say, bunnies in tiny jet planes) zoomed by, reveling in their attack. Never before had such a horrendous, unexpected event happen to the little fleas!
The fleas screamed in terror, watching the Rabbitteers circle around for a second barrage.
"AAAIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" they screamed in unison as the Rabbitteers' re-formed into attack position.
Amidst all the chaos, one tiny Fleabler, Magnum, heard a violent rustling in the nearby dandelion patch. He went to investigate in hopes of either quelling an attack or acquiring help against the bumbling bunnies, bitsy flea-sized heart thumped in his chest.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump...

The tiny Fleabler army crawled up to the edge of the bush. The bush stopped rustling long enough for Magnum to poke his head into the bottom corner of the bush. He jumped back as the bush began the shake again. He wondered around the bush slowly gathering leaves, licking them and sticking them on to his bony little legs as disguise. Did you know that Fleabler spit is very sticky? It's like super glue, really it is. . .go squeeze a flea till his tongue pops out and wipe his tongue on something and you'll see. ANYWAYS . . . the now tribal looking Magnum leaped into the bush only to find . . .

The Hare: Ch. 3

*Now returning to our regularly scheduled programming after Dana's questionable drug use*
(way to go Dana)
(don't do drugs, kids)
(or write stories when you're not paying attention)
(and then leave your BEST FRIEND to clean up the mess)
(this is just ridiculous)
(ugggggggggggggggggggghhh)
(but always practice forgiveness and move on from there)

Ahem.
So, backtracking, The Fleablers piled legs to shoulders atop one another, Jacopo being the highest link, seeing as he was the shortest, after all. As they towered in their 5/16" glory, The Fleablers felt like this is what they had been made for! Rather then being lone rogues, they were now one giant flea, ready to take on the world.
And then, they took their first unified step.
And, whatever Dana wrote happened(?).

As the Fleablers laid down in a tangled mess a la' pick-up-sticks, they bandaged their wounds (fleas have notoriously tender skin) and discussed how they could improve their stature. Statute? Statue. Statue!
"We'll make a statue!" they all simultaneously thought. And since The Fleablers all took a telepathy class as a group in the 10th grade, they all understood one another immediately. Not one word needed to pass from their lips.
Yes, fleas have lips.
The Fleablers began crafting their statue plan...

- - -

The Fleablers sat on their yellow fold up stools and brain stormed. One Fleabler thought it would be a good idea to sculpt a giant raisin out of ice . . . his idea got shot down. Another suggested a potato salad cook off, which, as you can tell by logical reasoning had nothing to do with what they were trying to figure out so THAT idea was thrown out the window too . . . literally {he may have broken a few tender little Fleabler legs.} Finally, after a couple other unrelated and lame ideas, one little Fleabler paw was spotted in the crowd, timidly quivering, waiting to be called upon . . .

The Hare: Ch. 2

Well these little fleas (who sometimes called themselves the Fleablers) (no, I don't know why, so don't ask), decided that they deserved some kind of recognition for the work they did. They never ever ever (quite often) slept! Their eyes would get stuck open for days (minutes)! And WHO ever thanked them! No one (Actually, everyone did. They even named May 6th Royal Fleabler Day)!! The fleas decided that they were finally going to make their stand.
Literally.
They decided to stand on each other's shoulders and make themselves as tall as they possible could until they towered over all the other woodland creatures. They only wished there were some dust mites, since they were the only creatures naturally smaller than they. Besides towering, the Fleablers didn't really have a plan. They just assumed that something excellent would have to happen once they were a full 5/16 inches tall (they would be 6/16, but Jacopo was 1/16" shorter than the other two. And then if that was so, they would have to reduce their fraction down to 3/8", and fleas are notoriously bad at mathematics).
And so they put their plan into action...

- - -

{i am so confused} - so the plan that the Fleablers had concocted inside their little Fleablers brains was to stand as tall as they could {as kelly said} and stand they did. For hours, nay DAYS! (3 and a half minuets). They tumbled into a Fleabler pile after Manly Stanley sneezed and brought down the whole gang. They viewed themselves as a Band of Brothers {not the 10 episode HBO WW2 TV masterpiece} but literally a brotherhood of Band-Aids. They ended up untangling their limbs and bringing out their Band-Aid collection.

The Hare Ch 1.

Once upon a time there was a rabbit. This rabbit could have also been classified as a bunny, although perhaps a hare would be the best word to describe this creature. I believe it is quite necessary to the story to provide the definition of this said hare, which is as follows: "a fast running, long-eared mammal that resembles a large rabbit, having long hind legs and occurring typically in grassland or woodland." {mac book dictionary}.

Now that you know just what this animal looks like, you should know what he smells like. Moldy cheese and green moss. Yes I know, rather malodorous in deed. How on earth could such a graceful stag bleed forth such a nasty stench? Well here is the reason, this small {yes he was smaller then your average hare} springy specimen lived in a wardrobe. Obviously hares who are surrounded by four walls of solid wood {which his very wardrobe was hand crafted mahogany} never yield anything that smells like sugar or spice, therefore leaving this hare to smell like walking compost. Unlike most wardrobes however, this one was most certainly not magic, in fact it was as non-magic as it could get. Dust did not danced inside this wardrobe like fairies when the sun shown through the cracks, like most flecks of dust do, and there was no magic trail of mushrooms leading to the entrance like there sometimes is.

Well enough about this stinky hare's none magic wardrobe, let me tell you about his very unique neighborhood, which consisted of a single chef who had been around large amounts of garlic so long that it had began to fuss with his brain capacity to work correctly. This chef had a very personal dispute with the hare about three months ago with what was thought to be a beat, a turnip, and a yak, but no one knows for sure what really happened. Anyways, this chef always wore his white hat, even to bed, and always talked with a French accent even though he was from Montana.

I know I said that the only other thing living in the hare's neighborhood was a chef, but are fleas really filed under the human or animal category? I think not. Anyways, there were three fleas who lived in the old abandoned clock tower. They had a job, a single simple job. They were to watch for intruders . . . which would sometimes consist of be a wayward tumble weed or an adolescent squirrel. These three fleas were very vital to the neighborhood but were never properly acknowledged for their countless hours of hard work. I mean I did not even classify them in a living creature category for crying out loud.