Ballad of the badgers

Once upon a time, in a closet not so very far away, there lived a small brown rabbit named Charles. Now Charles found he had a small problem, the badgers from the other side of closetopia had declared war on him because of the fluffiness of his fur. "Avast!" they declared loudly every morning into their loudspeakers made of mushrooms, "Have at ye and yonder furry rapscallions!"

"Nay, forsooth, and nevermore!" he would reply, "Mine down is but a fraction softer than the wonderous bristles of thine own backs!" and he would swoon in dramatic fashion, as was the custom.

Now further down the closet lived a senile old slug, who swore so badly he curdled water. What he replied to the bickering and fighting all the time has no relevence here, and will not be repeated for fear of deafening the small children of the world.

As time went on the two opposing forces decided to settle their differences once and for all, and drew battle lines somewhere between the slippers and the washing basket. Drawing his mighty claymore made from waffles and syrup, the head of the badgers raised it high and screamed a dire insult the rabbits way. The rabbit swooned again.

When he recovered, he stood, and donned his gauntlets of cowardice, drew his sword of fear, and wielded his shield of 'lets get the feck out of here!!'. He turned slowly, his thigh high caterpillar boots squeaking in the most offensive manner, and he proceded to break wind in the badgers general direction.

Unfortunately he did not take into account the strong tail wind from the crack under the left hand door, and promptly suffocated himself.

Now, as you may have noticed, there is no moral to this story, I couldn't be arsed to think that hard about it. And frankly, I'd have sided with the slug... the other two taste too good on a bun.