Dirty Rotten Cowards
Flangus Korvado was not in a good mood.
The slim rabbit, clad all in rainbow colors of scarlet red, sunshine yellow, sea blue and stripes of royal purple, stared down at the ground in dismay. There, crushed under the fat pawprint of some rogue, was a pasty.
Not just any pasty! This had been a champion dish, golden crusted, emitting steam from the majestic slits in its soft and crunchy top. The crimped edges glowed, covered with the sheen of syrupy, rich brown gravy. A baby carrot had even been decoratively poked out from the top of the wedge of mouth-watering goodness. Flangus stared down in hopeless grief at the now-ruined masterpiece.
His eyes clouded over with rage as he lifted his head and let them light upon the perpetrator to this most devious crime. The fat, loathsome hare lay, lounging carelessly, on a bench, seeming to not care that he'd just dropped and then crushed the Mona Lisa of all baked goods into the dirt. Flangus wriggled the spectacles back up the bridge of his nose. For a hare, he seemed to not have a care in the world about food.
Then again, Flangus had never liked hares. They were so violent, had vile table manners, and not an ounce of respect for the more delicate natures of their fellow beasts. The rabbit preferred a basket of hornets to the lop-headed brutes.
"Look... what... you've... done!" The words roared out of Korvado like they never had before, causing the lazy beast to glance up with half-closed eyes in his direction.
However the perilous nature of the hare was supposed to go, it certainly wasn't like this.
Flangus tossed himself into the other lagomorph's gut, knocking him to the ground and upsetting the bench with a crash. Instantly mice and moles, hedgehogs and squirrels were all up and gasping in alarm at the horrendous sight. The rabbit in the funny clothes laid into the vulnerable beast's backside, kicking him mercilessly again and again.
"You... will... not... waste... food! You... stupid... half-baked... reckless... horrid... excuse... for...a... rabbit's... cousin!"
The hare coughed and sputtered, clawing at the ground to get away.
"So," the gray-whiskered weaseless closed the blue-bound tome. She was wearing a long kirtle, a garment that was drab dun in color and reserved for the Servant's Guild at Wuulvite Fortress, "Did everyone learn their lesson from th' story?"
A crowd of orphan creatures, all mixed rats, weasels, stoats, ferrets, foxes, and one lone pine marten cub, looked around at each other questioningly. Each hoped to share credit for the answer with whichever beast had it, but none of them seemed to have it at all. The weaseless rubbed her temples with both paws and waved for them to follow.
"In 'ere then," she directed them into a broad kitchen, which was currently splattered with leftover food and dirtied dishes. She rounded on them, glaring savagely out of her blue-grey eyes.
"The lesson is... Do not leave yore livin' place in a state like this!"
The little creatures drew back in fear. They knew what was coming next.
"Now hop to it! You are Wuulvite!" the weaseless grinned slyly, "And that means you clean up, especially after yoreselves. Now grab a scrubber an' get going!"
I dedicate this one-shot (which I hope you all found humorous) to my esteemed friends of myself and my room mate. :) You know who you are.