*Goes to sleep for about 16 hours. Wakes up. Licks bottom. Sprays all over the tree*
Huhwuh? Heey, there are, like, chick cats 'round here!
(To the tune of 'Dixie')
MYOW YOW YOW YOW YOW RROW ROW! MEEOW! MEEOWWWW! oobyboo skeebadiddly boodly wahbop
MRROW YOW YOW MEE-OW MRAU YOW YOW! MEEOW MRAU YOW YOW OWYOOW! yebipbip jefferson davis bop de BOOGIE
*falls off branch*
Ohhh maaaaaaan
Ya pee'd on pa's tree! Get em Grue!
*grabs falling cat*
*SHAKESHAKESHAKESHAKESHAKESHAKE TOSS*
GIT DOWN FROM THET TREE! MAH UNCLE-PAPPY PLANTED THET TREE AN' IT AINT FER HIPPEHS!
Burn da' kat on da tree!
Nah. Theys got nine lives or something.
Poor kitty cat.
*comes back with cat's tail in mouth*
[Weeps for the poor pootie kat]
Another Dang Hippeh!
Points shotgun at Doodlebug Anklebiter
You think you rednecks are the only ones with a gun culture?!?
I'm from f@#%ing New Hampshire, biznitches!
[Whips out an AR-15 with a 3-D printed 50 round clip]
This is for Wayne Mayes!!!
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
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A YANKEE HIPPEH!
GETTIM BOYS!
*click click*
BOOM!
THE SOUTH AND CTHULHU SHALL RISE AGIN!
[Starts singing as he ducks and covers, bobs and weaves]
John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
But his soul is marching on
BLAM!
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Oh I wish I was in the land of Kadath!
BLAM! BLAM!
Old Ones there would give you their wrath!
BLAM! BLAM!
ÏA ÏA!
BLAM!
ÏA ÏA!
BLAM!
ÏA ÏA!
BLAM!
Dreaming land!
BLAM! BLAM!
Dream about this, Mammy!
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
I've still got 20 rounds, yokels! I love 3-D printers!
Several slugs impact Mammeh's corpulent bulk without obvious effect
Yew caint slay an adept of the P'Nakratic Order with lead shot silly hippeh! I's immortal!
F*+~ing yokel cultists...
[Charges down the hill, punches Grue in the Attic in the stomach, when Grue opens his mouth to cry, grabs HepPlutoCat's tail, pulls him out of Grue's mouth and runs off]
May Wayne Mayes smite you all!
Yer perty fer a goblin.
What do you mean, "Fer a goblin"?
Racist.
Blam!
*yelps from the kick, then snarls and bites after the goblin, managing to tear off the seat and one leg of his pants as he bolts*
[Stops for a second to moon the yokels.]
Dang! Ah jes sed you wuz perty, an you have to get all gobliny bout it.
*Presently dangling in mid-air, suspended from the goblin's sticky little paw*
"Man, that was far out. I'm, like, gone, daddio.You wouldn't believe what was in that thing's stomach!"
*Produces:
1) A 12 pack of gold plated panty liners (£346.49)
2) Martin Bormann (£0.50. Dust cover missing. Some pencil
markings. Staples rusty)
3) A mouldy lamb samosa that sings 'Livin' La Vida Loca' when fondled
(£15.99)
4) "Pithecanthropus Erectus" by Charlie Mingus (£4.36)
Heeeey! Like, groovy.
*beeeeeeelch*
Oh, great, you've got things priced in pounds, Hep. They don't like people from New England, what are they going to do to you?
Oh, great, you've got things priced in pounds, Hep. They don't like people from New England, what are they going to do to you?
"I don't care, man - I've still got, like, six lives left. Besides..."
*Rips off fur, revealing musclear young man in powdered wig and hussar's uniform*
AY AM ECTUALLY COLONEL TARLETON, COME TO TEACH YOU DEMMED RREBELS TO USE A CIVILAISED CURRENCY TO PAY FOR YOUR PANTY LAINERS AND MOULDY INDIAN SNACKS. GOD SAVE THE KI....
*Hussar's uniform rips open in a cloud of blood and gold braid, revealing a bedraggled-looking cat in a black polo neck and beret*
"Far out!"
*Notices corpse of Colonel Tarleton*
"Wow, sorry, man!"
*beeeeeeelch*
Grue, my boy! What's ya been eatin'? Ay wonders if any of that stuff's wurf in confederate dollars?
Turns, draws his sawed-off shotgun and fires two solid rounds at Doodlebug Anklebiter
Now Gits!
[Watches in amazement the many metamorphoses of HepPlutoCat while still mooning the yokels; gets buckshot in the tukas]
Ow!
Come on, Heppie, let's make like a tree and get outta here!
Yew ain't dead Wingding, this is jest some sorta hippeh tomfoolery
*click click*
BANG!
Durn hippehs
This is the Dark beedleydweedlyBopestry, man. Dig?
Come on, Heppie, let's make like a tree and get outta here!
*Tip of tail is blown off by Mammy's last blast of buckshot*
Like, downtown Chillsville, Dads. Let's split!
Ay needs sum shine...
They's gone I reckin'
Eeyup.
Whut? Tell me. Aye gots things ta do today.
Da suspence is killin' me.