) Peter Rabbit goes nuts

Dmano Baggio!!! (9256405@mull.sms.ed.ac.uk)
Wed, 14 Feb 1996 17:52:31 +0000

Once upon a time, there were four rabbits, Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail and Peter.
They lived with their mother, Old Mrs. Rabbit, in a warren which looked -to the
unaccustomed eye- rather like the lice infected trenches of World War I.
One day Peter's mother said "I am going to market to sell my
mittens. You may play in the wood if you wish but, Peter, you and your naughty
cousin Benjamin Bunny are not to antagonise Mr. McGregor nor blow up any Panzer
tanks today", and with that, she left in a swish-swash-swish of rustling skirts.
But oh! That Peter was a naughty rabbit! No sooner had his mother
left than he had dressed fror combat and hopped down to the end of the lane to
rendezvous with his cousin Benjamin.
As the two young rabbits exchanged their fulsome greetings, they
suddenly became aware of a mighty a-clinking and a-clanking coming up the road!
Their little hearts a-flutter, they peered judiciously around the corner.
And what do you think the naughty young rabbits sawwhen they peeped
out? why it was Mr. McGregor in a MkII Tiger tank with a transversable 88mm
howitzer and two forward mounted 7.62mm machine guns!
"Be quick and fetch the Panzerfaust anti-tank gun from Tom Kitten!"
whispered Benjamin. So Peter went lipperty-lipperty all the way to Tom Kitten's
"Quick!" Peter implored him. "Lend me your Panzerfaust, for Mr.
McGregor has a Tiger tank and will surely blast us all into bloody shords of
flesh, bone and sinewy pulp if we are not careful if we are not most
Tom Kitten gave Peter his anti-tank gun willingly for Mr. McGregor
had scolded him once. But by the time Peter had returned to his cousin, Mr.
McGregor had driven up the road and opened fire on Jemima Puddleduck, killing
her instantly.
"Thank goodness you were not the least tardy!" cried Benjamin, as
the turret of Mr. McGregor's tank slowly turned towards the humble abode of Mrs.
"Waste the fucker!" Benjamin called out with the sensation of
enjoyment. So Peter steadied the Bazooka on his shoulder and squinted one beady
little rabbit eye down the sights.
Now, rabbits eat lots of carrots and every child knows that
carrots do your eyesight a power of good, so of course Peter did not miss.
Whooomph! Ka-Woooommmbbbb! The AP shell from the Panzerfaust
slammed square into the cowling of the Tiger's twin back Mayback HL 700hp
engines, sending fuel cascading everywhere!
"Take that for putting my father in a pie, you four-eyed Scottish
bastard!" exaulted Peter and gave a little rabbity hop for joy.
But oh dear! Mr. McGregor was trapped in the hatch of his burning
Panzer tank and he was a-hollering and a-screaming fit to burst!
"Kill me, please!" he requested of the rabbits. "For I am trapped
and sorely afraid that I shall slowly burn to death from the legs upwards!"
Benjamin Bunny raised his Scmeisser and pumped a full magazine
into the distressed Mr. McGregor's head, thereby solving the pretty little
pickle they had found themselves in!
All of a sudden, another hatch opened who should fly out but Mr.
McGregor's cat! Now Benjamin's father had no opinion whatsoever of cats, but
Benjamin was shit-scared of them and would have most surely voided himself in
his attire had not the cat been one huge ball of flame and surely demising.
When Mr. McGregor's cat rattled and lay still, the two little
rabbits exchanged salutes and promised to meet again next Thursday and then
hurried back to their respective domiciles.
Oh dear! Old Mrs Rabbit was distraught in the extreme when she
learned what her naughty son had been about.
"How many times have I told you about blowing up tanks!" she
childed. "You are a naughty, wicked rabbit!"
Flopsy, Mopsy and cottontail who had not assaulted any armoured
vehicles were rewarded with fresh lettuce and carrots and radishes, but Peter
was sent to bed without any supper.
But then, who wants to eat that rabbit food shit anyway?


"That's not my opinion.... that's just what I think!"

Ciao for now, love Dusch;
"when you say that, smile!"
'To me, boxing is like a ballet, except there's no music, no choreography
and the dancers hit each other.'
"G.G.R. is the way forward"

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