Vixie was feeling very optimistic that today she would definitely catch that smart-aleck rabbit.
It was really a pretty straightforward thing. Her cousin, a coyote from the desert Southwest had turned her on to his supplier.
Vixie was well aware of the troubles he’d had, but she also knew a rabbit is no roadrunner. Even some wise-cracking rabbit with a Brooklyn accent would be no match for her today.
Oh boy! This is gonna be great. We’ll have rabbit stew tonight. Now, if only she can get this thing put together properly…
In 250 words or less, tell me a story incorporating the elements in the picture. The 250 word limit will be strictly enforced.
Please keep language and subject matter to a PG-13 level.
Use the comment section below to submit your entry. Entries will be accepted until 5:00 PM Pacific Time on Tuesday, July 10th, 2012.
On Wednesday morning, we will open voting to the public with an online poll for the best writing entry accompanying the photo. Voting will be open until 5:00 PM Thursday.
On Friday morning, the winner will be recognized as we post the winning entry along with the picture as a feature. Best of luck to you all in your writing!
Entries only in the comment section. Other comments will be deleted.
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Photograph by K.S. Brooks, used here with the photographer’s permission. Copying or reproduction of any kind without express consent is prohibited. All rights reserved.
For a more detailed explanation of the contest & its workings, please see the post called “Writing Exercises Return with a Twist” from 12/24/11.
By participating in this exercise the contestants agree to the rules of the contest and waive any and all further considerations or permissions otherwise required for any winning entries to be published by Indies Unlimited as an e-book, showcasing all the photos and with the winning expositions credited appropriately and accordingly.
The mechanical splendor of the ACME Rabbitpulverizomatic 3250.728™ loomed among the trees across from Vixie E. Fox, cousin to that cartoon coyote. That coyote had nothing but endless trouble catching that roadrunner—trouble of the falling off cliffs holding comical signs that said “uh-oh” variety—but he hadn’t had a Rabbitpulverizomatic 3250.728™.
Vixie crouched, hidden from Bubs Bunny who coincidentally also had a relative in show business. Bubs would be no match for the Rabb…oh, you know. Once within ten feet of it, he would be sucked in by its Leporid-Vac™ technology. With the help of mallets, boxing gloves, and some anvils for good measure, it would live up to the “pulverizomatic” promise of its name.
The rascally rabbit appeared on two legs, a carrot held in his hand and a pretentious smile across his fuzzy face. Vixie rubbed her paws together menacingly. Finally, she would get Bubs.
Bubs sauntered up to the machine and gave it a look. “Well, I’ll be, a carrot steamer!” He tossed his carrot into the Leporid-Vac™ hose and it popped out the back, steamed with a side of potatoes and a parsley garninsh on fine china. “Whadayaknow,” he smirked as he took his food and left.
Vixie ran to the machine in a tizzy, giving it a swift kick in the gears. The Leporid-Vac™ whirred to life, sucking her into what should have been called the Stupidfoxbeaterupper™. Maybe Veganism would be worth a try.
Yeah cause she really really really didn't what happened to Coyote's other cuz, Big Wolf, when he got sprung-on. Well, sprung-back-on, settin' it. Problem was, Supply-Guy–yeah and Coyote too–was working for the owner class.
It had happened last winter, twice, to Yappie and Lass. Everyone now knew the story by heart, and Fuhrie had reminded her, last time they'd stood groomin'. Under the huckle-bush. "Lass,she was denned with the pups, 16 remaining, her dugs all soft from milkin' em, warmth in the bundlin'. Just lickin' and lovin' 'em, everyone sleepy, eyes half-shut. Jam, Lass's sweet-runt, soft-chewin' her tippy-tail.
Came the squish! Rock wall and dirt-top down on 'em. Big step by mankind.
See, it seemed–Fuhrie had reminded her but Vixie knew–old Howler, everyone's white-sheep cousin and best friends with the supplier, had informed, and Lass had been–now soon they'd all be–tricked and trapped and squished on by the Man.
It ain't easy being a fox. I've got four hungry mouths to feed and it's freezing out. That pesky buzzard swiped my rabbit dinner right from under my nose. Moron. Looks like I'll have to get us a Sub tonight. That's Vixie lingo. *Suburbia Takeout* Get it? I know a place that keeps pet rabbits in their yard. It's quite a trek, but hey, a fox got to eat. The lights are on at the house and the screen door is ajar. I'll have to be careful. I can easily open the hutch with my nose. Be afraid bunny, be very afraid. Hey, I can see the lady in the kitchen. What the?! She's WEARING my cousin, Bushy Tail! And my uncle Foxy! Why, the murdering…..! I hate humans. You don't see us animals walking around with a human foot for good luck do ya bunny? Nope. You've had a reprieve bud. I can see a big roast cooling on her kitchen counter, and it's got my name on it. I've swiped that baby right from under her nose. Yeh lady, thanks for dinner and keep the change you filthy human! See you bud, bite that "lady's" finger, real hard for me next time she puts her hand in your pen, ok? G'night.
“You gonna eat that?” Harris the rabbit asked while wiggling his nose and preparing to flee before the fox dove into the log after him.
“If I could catch you, I wouldn't have to eat bugs!” Vixie snarled. She crunched on a beetle as she read the instructions on the Acme Sling-0-Matic that her cousin had recommended.
“Whatcha gonna do with that giant rubber band?” Harris inquired, poking his nose out of the hole.
“I’m building a sling-shot and I’m going to shoot myself into your log,” Vixie said with a foxy grin. “Wile E says that he’s caught many a roadrunner with it!”
“Do I look like a roadrunner?” Harris asked wryly.
Vixie reared back and pounced, growling, “Grrrrrr!”
“Is that your tummy grumbling?” Harris taunted. Just before he disappeared again, he said, “My belly’s full!”
“I’ll get you!” Vixie sneered as she stuck her head into the end of the log and began digging out the decayed wood.
With a huff, she left the log and quickly read the instructions again. Stretching the sling-shot between two trees, Vixie placed her backside into the rubber band. She scooted backwards, extending it out farther and farther. Concentrating on her efforts, she aimed her nose at the hole in the log. Closing her eyes and holding onto the ground with one toe, she prepared for liftoff. Suddenly, she heard a noise behind her.
“Beep! Beep!” Harris yelled at her bushy tail before he skittered into the woods.
Pfling-ng-ng! Acme wins again!
Vixie had seen the thing through the window in the house, the glowing thing with the pictures that moved. The one that caught her eye showed cats growing opposable thumbs so they could open the door and get at the milk inside. She showed it to her cousin, Carl Coyote and they put their heads together.
Now, Vixie and Carl had no interest in milk. No, it was that arthritic rabbit they wanted. He should have been an easy catch but had eluded them staying to close to his hole.
Vixie studied her paws, the ones without opposable thumbs and sighed. She had the wires to make the snare, knew how to set it, even knew where to get some choice clover for bait. But no thumbs to hold things in place. She licked her paws, mewling in frustration. Hold on, there, girl. Think this through. That rabbit is stew. All you have to do is think.
She had it! What were hands but five different pieces of one tool. She had five – two front paws, two hind paws and teeth. Yes!
The snare wasn’t pretty, but Vixie set it out, carefully baited with fresh clover, and lay low to wait. Sure enough, the rabbit scented the delicacy and inched out to sniff. At the first nibble Vixie sent a yip out to Carl hiding at the other end of the line. The rabbit jumped, Carl yanked, and Vixie ran to bite the coup de grace. Rabbit stew tonight.
Place top joint “A” into hole “C”. Tightly bolt “Q” for view: 79 American Perfect Rabbit Catcher.
Vixie ground her teeth in frustration. Half assembled parts lay scattered about. Her bushy red tail flicked back and forth. Its white tip made exclamation points in the air as it moved. This didn’t look anything like the picture on the box. She was beginning to think her cousin Wily E. Coyote, Super Genus, was a crazy old coot like everyone said. He’s the one who suggested Vixie buy this contraption.
Vixie shook her head and took a deep breath. She really wanted rabbit stew tonight without a lengthy chase. Perhaps if she started from the beginning the directions would make more sense.
Thank you for purchasing you this beautifully hand crafted American Rabbit Catcher. All guarantee catch do rabbit. Start first place spring in herverbat post and tighten bolt to for keep in place.
“Who the heck wrote this crap? These directions are total gibberish.”
Vixie shoved the pile of metal across the den. She’d never catch that carrot chomping rabbit with this junk. She scratched irritably at her ear then pulled the box close, studying the picture of the fully assembled product. A line of microscopic print along the side of the box caught her eye.
Hand crafted American Rabbit Catcher manufactured in Sir Lanka. Not intended for catching of real rabbits.
“Damn,” said Vixie. That stupid coyote was chewing peyote. No wonder he can never catch that roadrunner.
“I’m telling you, Earl, that ain’t your dog.”
“Course it is, Virgil. You think I don’t know my own dog when I see ’em?”
“That there’s a fox. You’re just too drunk to see.”
“I ain’t drunk.”
“Then why you standing out here in the snow, buck naked?”
“Ain’t it butt naked?”
“Am I crazy or is that fox watching us?”
“I told you, my dog ain’t no fox. Probably wants to go for a walk. You see what I did with his leash?”
“Yeah, you ain’t drunk. How ’bout you check your pockets?”
“Good thinking…Lord-a-mighty, Virgil, where’d my pants get to?”
“He’s definitely watching us. And look, there’s another one behind him.”
“Maybe I am drunk. I’m seeing double.”
“Hang on. That one’s bigger. Way bigger.”
“Must be Cecil’s new dog. He said he bought one of them Rottweilers.”
“That ain’t no Rottweiler. Look here, now, there’s four of ’em…no, five, and they’s creeping closer.”
“Don’t got five leashes. They’s gonna have to wait their turn.”
“Inside, Earl. Run!”
“In a minute. Nature’s calling. Guess that ninth beer broke the seal.”
“Earl, watch out!”
“Hey, Virgil. Little cold to be standing out in the snow, don’t you think? I see Earl’s got himself some new dogs.”
“W-what?”
“Hellfire, they play rough…. Hey, when did Earl lose his legs?”
“He—he—”
“Dang, Virgil, it ain’t funny. Now who we gonna send on beer runs?…Say, is them dogs watching us…?”