We gratefully acknowledge the original 'Disapproving Rabbits' website, that inspired this site, and its creators, Sharon, Bill, Cinnamon, and Dougal. Without you, we would not be here. We Approve Of You!

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Sunday, March 8, 2020

The Bunday Evening Thumps

Good Evening, Everybunn!

In the middle of a night,  in a park, on a bench under a light, Mr. Spressos sat waiting. He didn't move when the hoomin sat next to him. Steam rose from their breaths as they sat in silence for a moment.
"You lied to me; again! There wath nothing in that envelope!" yelled the exasperated hoomin hissingly.

Mr. Spressos stiffened in a panic and jerked his head to look at the hoomin. He expected the hoomin to show up and eventually say something, even expected him to be upset. But he didn't expect this. Tight as a piano string, Mr. Spressos turned his head slowly and leaned in close to the hoomin for a better look. Mr. Spressos' eye was bulging out in disbelieve.

"Whath... what'th the matter wif you? Why are you thtaring at me like thaf?" mumbled the hoomin.

Mr. Spressos relaxed. It was only the hoomin hissing. For a second, Mr. Spressos's ears warned him against a serpent, a spy slayer of some kind, or maybe a gimpy dragon with a complicated past. But no, this was his hoomin contact.

"Why are you hissing, Mr. Hoomin?" Mr. Espressos asked slowly.
"Whaf? Whaf are you falking abouf?" tried to ask the hoomin, completely thrown off his game.

"Why are you hissing? Oh, wait, where's your toof, Mr. Hoomin?" asked Mr. Spressos as he relaxed some more.

"My crown came off, OK?! The femp crown if nof faying on, OK?!" quivered the hoomin struggling to speak.

"Wrong glue, you were using the wrong glue, Mr. Hoomin. And I'm sorry about the empty envelope, but the void, space, that was the real gift - you have to admit, Mr. Hoomin. Whatever you expected to find there was so much better than anything I could have stuffed in there," said Mr. Spressos.

They sat in silence for a moment before the dejected hoomin got up to leave.
"Wait, Mr. Hoomin. Get a big toenail from a gargoyle, a pinch of disdainium sulfate, and some unicorn spittle. Mix it up and use a dab of it to glue your crown back in place.  It'll be stronger than a cold-welded Inconel," said Mr. Spressos with a straight mouf.

"Fankth, fankth a lof," quipped Mr. Hoomin derisively as he slowly disappeared into the night.

We'll keep you posted,
- Espresso


RG said...

What crown?? Is this court intrigue? Or just bad tar?

Auntie Jane (It is official!) said...

An empty envelope? Very interesting stuff going on here, but I should point out that disdainium sulfate can only be used by licensed professionals and there are not many around.