Ben - Chapter Thirty One

As usual and as much, the evening drawing nearer would bring these long-leggeds upstanding hind, with their crackling belches fluttering across the valley and forest. The sound unfathomable. The smell unbearable. Soupy. Thick. Disgusting.

Ben, being a kind and wise rabbit, gave shelter to two frightened juvenile horsefish by extending his tail and shielding them from the putrid clouds of bearbelch. For it was wise, these tinies could serve and protect a rabbit, for they could exist on land as well as water.

Their wafer thin wit was even sharper than their minds eyes, and they could project comedic patterns on trees with their natural ability to produce light. Ben, being of no excellent humor, found them hilarious and would be entertained for hours by their sprightly 19th century lightdance.

Ben would even trade, factoring in his pipenoise and stringwind, making a show fit for an orchestra of bears. The sound arranged itself in such a way as to even pleasure that rare tree that grew ears in late spring. Floating buttercup mills completed the picture.

As a demonstration of his power and sense of humor, Ben would rouse the suspicion of the largest belcherbear in the land, goad then into a chase, and then laugh as the bear slipped unfortunately in a puzzle of water. To add to the misfortune of this confused beast, Ben would crap in their left ear and scurry off while dazed sitting continued.

Ben was a rabbit with a tasty sense of humour.