Two badgers do battle over a tennis shoe

***-This short story was originally written in response to writing prompt called “write a story about two badgers fighting to the death over a tennis shoe” but nobody ever read it, so I’m re-posting it here instead.


It was a tough night, me and my next hole neighbour Barry had been out hunting moles on the grassy knoll. The moles hadn't shown and now we were back off our setts, where we lived with our wives and cubs. My wife, Sandra, was very house proud, she adorned our sett with little bits a bobs that we'd found out on our travels. We had a semi skimmed milk bottle, a cardboard settee made by Burger King, ring pulls for the kids to play with. And on the back wall of the lounge hung our pride and joy - the bottom half of a full back page of the Daily Telegraph. It read; SERENA WINS WILMBELDON and had this picture of the biggest most muscular legs you had ever seen in your life. Kind of like a frogs legs but bigger and more powerful. Man, what I’d give to suck on them legs, damn they looked good.
Anyway, we were walking back to our respective sets and I said to Barry "I’m gonna take a detour mate, see if there is any squashed hedgehog in the road to eat." "Okay then fella, be careful down there" he responded. I scrummaged through the hedgerow, through the ditch and on to the cool tarmac. You could find anything out here, sure it was dangerous but that made it all the more exciting. In fact, it turned me on a little. Then out in the distance I saw it, and heard it. It was going fast, and as it grew closer I could tell it was a range rover. Man, I hated those things, ever since on had splattered my older brother, Kevin back in April. Then all of a sudden something caught my attention on the other side of the road. I just had to investigate, so I started to cross the road - OH SHIT WHERE DID THAT CAR COME FROM! The tyres screeched, I turned around in the road to return to the side I had originally came from, then I changed my mind and began to cross again. I jumped as the big 4x4 swerved to avoid me, it's front bumper brushing against the bristles on my arse as it it did so. It mounted the verge, making contact with a rouge chunk of concrete which penetrated the front nearside tyre resulting in a satisfying pop. The car bumped along slowly for about 50 yards before coming to a stop - and then thee was silence. A few seconds elapsed, then a door opened. A man stepped out into the darkness and pulled out his smart telecommunication device from his pocket and put it up to his face, illuminating it. "Hi Steph, sorry to call you so early, look I have a puncture, I’m going to be late for my early appointment. mhmm, ya. No, I’m sorry I’ll be as fast as I can. mhmm, no really. I'm somewhere near Godalming. Mhm. No, it's the early appointment. The 8am Wimbledon. Let them know I’m going to be late. Ok Thanks Steph" What did he say? Wimbledon? That's what Serena has won. The man opened the back of the car. "That jack is in here somewhere" he muttered. Out came the contents. A jerry can. A small suitcase. And a gym bag, that fell open as it hit the floor sending its contents flying. A tube of liquid talc. A bottle of Paco Rabanne. And there it was. A tennis shoe. I recognised it instantly, it was the one that Serena had worn when her legs won Wimbledon. He must be taking it to her. I simply must steal it, I thought to myself. In the cover of darkness, I crept towards the car. Slowly slowly catchy monkey, I was within a few feet of the prize. Then from behind me I head a voice. "Stop right the sunshine". I froze in my steps, slowly rotating my head like the girl from The Exorcist. It was Greasy Tony from the grassy knoll. We called him 'Greasy' because he lived in a partially buried oil drum on the other side of the woods. "Step away from the shoe soft lad, it's mine" he said. "No way Tony, I saw it first, and besides you don't even know what it is. It is Serena’s, and I’m building a shrine to her legs. This is part of my collection." All white with Diadora written down the side, and most importantly smelling of Serena, no way was I letting this go to this greasy prick. I moved in to snatch the shoe, the I felt it. Tony sunk his goofy teeth into my rough badger arse. "YEEEEOOOOWW" I squealed, instantly rotating in response and sinking my own teeth right into his hairy gooch. I bit down with all of my might and we began to roll around in the road causing a bit of a commotion. The man who was changing his wheel, stood up startled and began screaming like a little girl, presumable cheering me on, as we did battle under his ridiculously oversized 4x4. I was getting the upper hand and I felt Tony’s teeth disengage from my arse, which was nice, but no way was I going to let him scurry away. He challenged me to Serena’s shoe, and now we must duke it out to the end. I dragged him by his scrot up to the bonnet of the Range Rover. Tony wriggled in agony as our audience of one, who had now climbed into the passenger seat, egged me on by honking the horn and shouting "Shew, get away". I hauled Tony up the windscreen onto the roof of the car. With his scrotum still between my teeth I lifted him high over my head and threw him as hard as I could. He landed on the hard tarmac with a crack, out for the count and bleeding profusely from between his legs. I looked down at him smugly, remarking "the crows and buzzards will get you come dawn."
I slid down the windscreen and hopped of the bonnet, giving thanks to the audience that was obviously stunned into tears with my physical prowess and display of superiority. I claimed my prize of Serena’s shoe and pegged it down the road as fast as I could beck to the sett. Sandra was very happy with it and she expressed her gratitude by making sweet badger love to me all day long.
~Fin