Rabbit Season
And, behold, for the third day in a row a blog chapter was added.
And there was much rejoicing.
And some fans didst wonder if this was setting a precident.
But other fans didst tell them not to get their hopes up.
***
Out in the jungle, there was a movement.
Slowly, a very small rabbit's nose poked adorably out into the open from behind a log.
The nose sniffed the air suspiciously, but also adorably.
Moments later, the rest of the rabbit's face could be seen peering over the log, equally adorably.
(Yes, the log was adorable. It was off an adorable tree, you know, the sort of tree they make a door from?)
The rabbit's adorable eyes took in the space in front of it, and zeroed in on the single carrot that suspiciously lay in the middle of the clearing.
With an adorable hop, the very small rabbit left its hiding space, and proceeded adorably to the carrot.
It glanced around adorably, and then took an adorable nibble.
Suddenly, a net fell from a nearby tree and captured the adorable creature.
“Hoooo-wheee!! It worked, dag-nabbit!!”
The hillbilly leapt from his hiding place and danced a quick victory jig with nobody in particular.
“Well sirree!” The hillbilly laughed, “When you came up with this plan, I thought it was a mite ludicrous, but now we're gonna have ourselves the most bestest dinner I've ever tasted!”
“Uh, you're not supposed to eat the rabbit,” nobody in particular pointed out.
“Oh, right,” the hillbilly muttered, “Photograph! Photograph! I keep forgetting that.”
Nobody in particular was already manicuring the rabbit, which, despite its squirming and adorable squealing, had not yet managed to inflict any serious injury on nobody in particular.
“Wow-whee!” The hillbilly exclaimed to nobody in particular, “You sure are good with that there rabbit! You're gonna be a force to reckon with, I reckon.”
Nobody in particular remained silent, and posed with the rabbit as the hillbilly took a photo.
Immediately an Evans stepped from behind a tree, took the rabbit from nobody in particular, and announced to nobody in particular, “Congratulations. You have successfully completed this part of the challenge. Judging will be announced by the firing of a cannon, at which stage all contestants must return to the Tribal Circle.”
Nobody in particular smiled, and thanked the Evans, who turned to leave, still holding the adorable rabbit.
“Wait!” the hillbilly called, “What about my photo?”
“One photo per rabbit, sorry,” the Evans stated, as he stepped back behind the tree and vanished.
“Con-sarn-it!” the hillbilly swore, glaring at nobody in particular, “Why didn't ya tell me?”
“Every man for himself,” nobody in particular replied, “And you better hurry and find a rabbit of your own. There can't be that many left.”
The realisation that nobody in particular was right hit the hillbilly like a train in the face.
Leaving nobody in particular gloating in the clearing, the hillbilly dashed into the jungle frantically, pausing only to retrieve his net.
Unfortunately, it had been nobody in particular who had been helping the hillbilly before, and on his own, the hillbilly's hunting techniques were not as refined.
“Here bunny bunny bunny! Come and get yer photo taken bunny bunny bunny! I'm feeling hungry bunny bunny bunny! Want some bunny pie bunny bunny bunny!”
It would have been hopeless, if the hillbilly hadn't stumbled into another clearing, in which Kevin Richardson and Randy Jackson were busy decorating a rabbit, and trying to bandage their bleeding fingers.
The two celebrities looked up in shock.
“Yo, dawg! He's here to steal our rabbit yo!”
“Everybody (Backstreet's Back) lets get him!”
Randy quickly wrapped a length of bandage around the rabbit to hold it in place, and charged at the hillbilly head-first.
The hillbilly side-stepped and Randy plowed straight into a tree, knocking himself out cold.
The hillbilly looked up at Kevin Richardson.
“I want that there rabbit,” he intoned.
“Quit playing games,” Kevin Richardson replied coldly.
Pointing to the rabbit and gesturing at the camera nearby, he added, “I want it that'a way.”
The hillbilly cricked his neck and clenched his fists.
Kevin Richardson busted out a few smooth dance moves, kind of like Maori warriors will do a haka before battle, only with less intimidation and more flashy choreography.
Then the celebrity ran at the hillbilly.
The hillbilly threw his net.
Kevin Richardson fell to the ground, caught under the net, and helplessly thrashing about like a Magikarp (and seemingly about as effective in battle).
“All I have to give” he whimpered.
“Wooo-whee!!” For the second time in the day the hillbilly danced a victory jig, and dashed across to the adorable bundle of rabbit.
“Mmmm, you sure do seem adorably tasty,” he muttered, trying not to drool as he manicured the rabbit and prepared it for the photo.
“If only I could have a small bite....”
He opened his mouth, and prepared to insert the rabbit.
“No!” Nobody in particular cried, pulling the rabbit away from the hillbilly's pie-hole.
“Photo first, eating later,” nobody in particular added.
His momentary lapse of focus over, the hillbilly looked at nobody in particular gratefully.
“You came back for me!” he smiled.
Nobody in particular seemed a bit uncomfortable, and muttered something unconvincing about just trying to find his way to Tribal Council and it just being a co-incidence and don't go thinking I'm your friend or anything.
But nobody in particular did agree to hold the camera, and photograph the hillbilly with his adorable prisoner.
And then with the rabbit.
Once the others had gone, Randy muttered, "Yo, dawg, he trapped you under a net. Why did you still agree to take a photograph with him, bro?"
Kevin Richardson shrugged.
"Thats just the shape of my heart."
***
In another clearing, Trixie Hobbetts and Dungay arrived just in time to witness an Evans congratulating Wanchai for his impressive, creative, and bound-to-get-him-through-to-the-next-round photograph, and only fractionally too late to witness how the banana had actually managed to achieve this.
The Evans, holding another adorable rabbit, made to leave, but Trixie forced him to unmake temporarily.
"Excuse me, Steven Evans?"
"Greetings, Trixie," Steven Evans smiled, "How are you enjoying your gaming experience?"
"Uh, brilliantly. I just was wondering, how many rabbits are left?"
Steven Evans smiled.
"Oh, so you're keen to win now that you know the prize, eh? Ah, that happens all the time. Here, hold this."
The Evans handed the rabbit to Trixie, and reached into a pocket, emerging with a handheld tablet-like electronic device of indeterminable brand.
"Uh, lets see. We have photos from The Hillbilly, Wanchai, Nobody in Particular, a rather dramatic one from Krulnor, Desmond... hmmm... 6, 7, 8... it seems there are three rabbits left, and, oh, they're all in the one area! If you hurry, you might be able to get there in time. It seems like most of the remaining contestants are closing in fast."
Trixie, who had taken the opportunity for both her and Dungay to get a quick photo with Wanchai's rabbit while Evans was looking at his tablet, smiled innocently at the host.
"Oh, yes, of course! That's what I'll do. And Dungay as well! Here, hold this."
She handed the rabbit back to the Evans, and, having glanced over the host's shoulder at the tablet to get a rough idea of which direction the other rabbits were in, began running in that direction, with the Tibetan Monk hot on her heels.
I mean, he was boiling.
"So, why are we doing this?" he called as they ran, "Didn't we just each get a photo?"
"Well, yes," Trixie admitted, "But there is a chance they won't accept those entries if they realise we stole the rabbit. And besides, if we can prevent anyone else from taking a photo, we increase our chances of advancing. Now, lets get there and eliminate some contestants!"
Chapter Two *** Chapter Four
And there was much rejoicing.
And some fans didst wonder if this was setting a precident.
But other fans didst tell them not to get their hopes up.
***
Out in the jungle, there was a movement.
Slowly, a very small rabbit's nose poked adorably out into the open from behind a log.
The nose sniffed the air suspiciously, but also adorably.
Moments later, the rest of the rabbit's face could be seen peering over the log, equally adorably.
(Yes, the log was adorable. It was off an adorable tree, you know, the sort of tree they make a door from?)
The rabbit's adorable eyes took in the space in front of it, and zeroed in on the single carrot that suspiciously lay in the middle of the clearing.
With an adorable hop, the very small rabbit left its hiding space, and proceeded adorably to the carrot.
It glanced around adorably, and then took an adorable nibble.
Suddenly, a net fell from a nearby tree and captured the adorable creature.
“Hoooo-wheee!! It worked, dag-nabbit!!”
The hillbilly leapt from his hiding place and danced a quick victory jig with nobody in particular.
“Well sirree!” The hillbilly laughed, “When you came up with this plan, I thought it was a mite ludicrous, but now we're gonna have ourselves the most bestest dinner I've ever tasted!”
“Uh, you're not supposed to eat the rabbit,” nobody in particular pointed out.
“Oh, right,” the hillbilly muttered, “Photograph! Photograph! I keep forgetting that.”
Nobody in particular was already manicuring the rabbit, which, despite its squirming and adorable squealing, had not yet managed to inflict any serious injury on nobody in particular.
“Wow-whee!” The hillbilly exclaimed to nobody in particular, “You sure are good with that there rabbit! You're gonna be a force to reckon with, I reckon.”
Nobody in particular remained silent, and posed with the rabbit as the hillbilly took a photo.
Immediately an Evans stepped from behind a tree, took the rabbit from nobody in particular, and announced to nobody in particular, “Congratulations. You have successfully completed this part of the challenge. Judging will be announced by the firing of a cannon, at which stage all contestants must return to the Tribal Circle.”
Nobody in particular smiled, and thanked the Evans, who turned to leave, still holding the adorable rabbit.
“Wait!” the hillbilly called, “What about my photo?”
“One photo per rabbit, sorry,” the Evans stated, as he stepped back behind the tree and vanished.
“Con-sarn-it!” the hillbilly swore, glaring at nobody in particular, “Why didn't ya tell me?”
“Every man for himself,” nobody in particular replied, “And you better hurry and find a rabbit of your own. There can't be that many left.”
The realisation that nobody in particular was right hit the hillbilly like a train in the face.
Leaving nobody in particular gloating in the clearing, the hillbilly dashed into the jungle frantically, pausing only to retrieve his net.
Unfortunately, it had been nobody in particular who had been helping the hillbilly before, and on his own, the hillbilly's hunting techniques were not as refined.
“Here bunny bunny bunny! Come and get yer photo taken bunny bunny bunny! I'm feeling hungry bunny bunny bunny! Want some bunny pie bunny bunny bunny!”
It would have been hopeless, if the hillbilly hadn't stumbled into another clearing, in which Kevin Richardson and Randy Jackson were busy decorating a rabbit, and trying to bandage their bleeding fingers.
The two celebrities looked up in shock.
“Yo, dawg! He's here to steal our rabbit yo!”
“Everybody (Backstreet's Back) lets get him!”
Randy quickly wrapped a length of bandage around the rabbit to hold it in place, and charged at the hillbilly head-first.
The hillbilly side-stepped and Randy plowed straight into a tree, knocking himself out cold.
The hillbilly looked up at Kevin Richardson.
“I want that there rabbit,” he intoned.
“Quit playing games,” Kevin Richardson replied coldly.
Pointing to the rabbit and gesturing at the camera nearby, he added, “I want it that'a way.”
The hillbilly cricked his neck and clenched his fists.
Kevin Richardson busted out a few smooth dance moves, kind of like Maori warriors will do a haka before battle, only with less intimidation and more flashy choreography.
Then the celebrity ran at the hillbilly.
The hillbilly threw his net.
Kevin Richardson fell to the ground, caught under the net, and helplessly thrashing about like a Magikarp (and seemingly about as effective in battle).
“All I have to give” he whimpered.
“Wooo-whee!!” For the second time in the day the hillbilly danced a victory jig, and dashed across to the adorable bundle of rabbit.
“Mmmm, you sure do seem adorably tasty,” he muttered, trying not to drool as he manicured the rabbit and prepared it for the photo.
“If only I could have a small bite....”
He opened his mouth, and prepared to insert the rabbit.
“No!” Nobody in particular cried, pulling the rabbit away from the hillbilly's pie-hole.
“Photo first, eating later,” nobody in particular added.
His momentary lapse of focus over, the hillbilly looked at nobody in particular gratefully.
“You came back for me!” he smiled.
Nobody in particular seemed a bit uncomfortable, and muttered something unconvincing about just trying to find his way to Tribal Council and it just being a co-incidence and don't go thinking I'm your friend or anything.
But nobody in particular did agree to hold the camera, and photograph the hillbilly with his adorable prisoner.
And then with the rabbit.
Once the others had gone, Randy muttered, "Yo, dawg, he trapped you under a net. Why did you still agree to take a photograph with him, bro?"
Kevin Richardson shrugged.
"Thats just the shape of my heart."
***
In another clearing, Trixie Hobbetts and Dungay arrived just in time to witness an Evans congratulating Wanchai for his impressive, creative, and bound-to-get-him-through-to-the-next-round photograph, and only fractionally too late to witness how the banana had actually managed to achieve this.
The Evans, holding another adorable rabbit, made to leave, but Trixie forced him to unmake temporarily.
"Excuse me, Steven Evans?"
"Greetings, Trixie," Steven Evans smiled, "How are you enjoying your gaming experience?"
"Uh, brilliantly. I just was wondering, how many rabbits are left?"
Steven Evans smiled.
"Oh, so you're keen to win now that you know the prize, eh? Ah, that happens all the time. Here, hold this."
The Evans handed the rabbit to Trixie, and reached into a pocket, emerging with a handheld tablet-like electronic device of indeterminable brand.
"Uh, lets see. We have photos from The Hillbilly, Wanchai, Nobody in Particular, a rather dramatic one from Krulnor, Desmond... hmmm... 6, 7, 8... it seems there are three rabbits left, and, oh, they're all in the one area! If you hurry, you might be able to get there in time. It seems like most of the remaining contestants are closing in fast."
Trixie, who had taken the opportunity for both her and Dungay to get a quick photo with Wanchai's rabbit while Evans was looking at his tablet, smiled innocently at the host.
"Oh, yes, of course! That's what I'll do. And Dungay as well! Here, hold this."
She handed the rabbit back to the Evans, and, having glanced over the host's shoulder at the tablet to get a rough idea of which direction the other rabbits were in, began running in that direction, with the Tibetan Monk hot on her heels.
I mean, he was boiling.
"So, why are we doing this?" he called as they ran, "Didn't we just each get a photo?"
"Well, yes," Trixie admitted, "But there is a chance they won't accept those entries if they realise we stole the rabbit. And besides, if we can prevent anyone else from taking a photo, we increase our chances of advancing. Now, lets get there and eliminate some contestants!"
Chapter Two *** Chapter Four
posted by Lark Victory | 1:22 PM
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