“Touch my egg, you hairball, and I’ll kick your fluffy butt.”
She gave the thieving varmint a steely, marble-eyed stare.
Her crew closed ranks, nostrils flaring, feathers cocked. It was ‘ride or die’ time.
“You got three seconds to hop the hell up outta here!” she clucked.
The varmint surveyed the odds. Damn, outnumbered again. His whiskers twitched.
“You heard me, Mr. Peter Cottontail! Gitta steppin’ now! And tell that cheap, hairy wife of yours to do her egg shoppin’ at a grocery store and not in my coop!”
Out the hole and back down the bunny trail. Hippity hippity hop.
Sweet.
Rabbits are herbivores–perhaps Mr. Tod would have been a more appropriate varmint…
Glad to have hopped by and read this.