Posts Tagged ‘funny’

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The Christmas Dragon Fox Mix-up.

December 11, 2013

It was Christmas. Well not bang on Christmas, it was December and it was snowing, so it was pretty much Christmas. It looked like one of those Christmas cards you get where some kids have made a snowman and there are robins and stuff like that.

It was “Christmas time”. There we go.

Barnabus was a fox, and a bloody good one at that. He did all sorts of regular fox-based things such as knitting and dropkicks to the face, and he was ranked World #2 Maypole Dancer for three years in a row during the late 90s.

On this particular morning Barnabus was watching the news, which went along the lines of “Oh my God you guys, it is December and it is really cold and snowing, let’s all mass-panic as though this is a unique occurrence. All of the trains are crying and don’t work, look at this traffic jam, here is a man with a spade, here is some ice on a car in a person’s driveway, children are wearing gloves, we’re all going to die.” After having his fill of hysteria, Barnabus decided to go for a morning walk in the country.

The air was crisp and cold, and his breath plumed out from his mouth in little clouds like he was a dragon, he smiled at this and gave a little “roar”.

“Holy crap!” A frightened yelp came from a nearby bush, “Are you a dragon?! You sound like a dragon.”

Barnabus raised an eyebrow at the bush, puzzled, and took a step forward in efforts to investigate.

“Don’t you come any closer!” Said the bush. “I know your game, you’re going to toast me up good and eat me! You flipping dragon!”

“I’m not a dragon. Honest. I’m a fox. Check out my excellent knitting.” Barnabus took a scarf he was working on out of his standard issue fox rucksack and held it up to the bush. “You don’t see excellent knitting like this from dragons, do you?”

There was no response from the bush.

Cautiously, Barnabus slid a little closer. A silent moment passed, as though the bush was thinking, and then suddenly the bush blurred into the form of a leaping dog that filled Barnabus’ vision. Before he knew it he was slammed to the ground, his quality knitting strewn about in the snow.

The dog stared down at him, sniffing and gulping for air after its exertion.

“Are you a bush or a dog?” A slightly startled Barnabus asked.

“I’m a dog,” said the dog. “The bush was just my Halloween costume. Are you really a fox? I thought you might be a dragon dressed as a fox.”

“I’m a fox. I promise. I didn’t even do Halloween this year, it’s getting too commercial.”

The dog took his paws off Barnabus and looked around sheepishly.

“I’m sorry for pinning you down. I always get paranoid around Christmas what with all the scary dragons about. One of them bit my tail last year, it was awful.”

“That’s okay, they freak me out as well, my name’s Barnabus by the way, Barnabus the Fox.” Barnabus gave a little smile as he picked himself up.

The dog smiled back, “I’m Joseph. Nice to meet you. Listen, I’m really sorry about all that back there. Since I pinned you, it would make me feel much better if you pinned me back, would you do that for me? Call it a Christmas gift if you like.”

And so, Barnabus pinned Joseph, and the traditional family pastime of having a brutal wrestling match each year at Christmas was born.

foxDog

Animal on Animal wishes you a reasonably good Christmas.

Many thanks to Brett for sending this over, who got it from here.

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The One Weakness of a Rabbit.

September 3, 2012

“You can say what you like,” Barry the dog said as he chased his friend through the woods, “You’re a massive rabbit, and this is an unfair game of tig.”

The “massive rabbit” in question was Degas, and he was massive, and he was a rabbit.

“Stop moaning, Barry, and catch me!” In truth, Degas knew that the game was unfair, but he was pretty sick of everyone thinking dogs were ace and not thinking rabbits were quite as ace, so didn’t care.

The pair dashed through the thick woods of the English countryside, avoiding hobbits and dragons and badgers. Once or twice they took a break to eat blackberries. Neither of them particularly liked blackberries, but they were free, and times were economically tough. Blackberries were like two pounds or something at Tesco!

They ran again. Barry was doing a pretty good job at keeping up, he leapt gracefully through the bushes in pursuit of the white cotton tail bobbing up and down a few metres in front, but he was never going to catch his friend at this rate. He looked down at his tiny legs and sighed.

“If only I was a doberman,” Barry huffed to himself.

Degas was thinking about carrots and little blue jackets, and tiny shoes, like all rabbits do when they’re in the zone. He was speeding away.

A cunning thought came to Barry.

“Degas!” he shouted. “Oi!”

“Don’t distract me Barry! I know your game!” Degas smiled, but slowed his pace slightly to listen.

Barry had him where he wanted him… “What are you going to watch now that Desperate Housewives has finished?”

It struck Degas like a thunderbolt from a pikachu. What was he going to watch now that Desperate Housewives had finished?! He stopped dead, caught in the headlights of a world without Desperate Housewives, and Barry saw his chance. He dived through the air and landed square on Degas’ back.

“Tig!” he yelled, “I got you, silly rabbit!”

“How did you know my weakness?” Degas panted, still a bit panicked.

But Barry just winked at the camera, and the credits rolled.

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Thanks to Amy for the image (not sure where it’s from, if you know let me know).

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The hen and the hat.

July 3, 2012

Bernice was a pretty thrifty hen and tended to buy her clothes from charity shops. Arguably as a hen she was throwing her money away on clothes as she didn’t need any (being a hen), which surely would mean that she was a foolish spender rather than “thrifty”, but people that would argue this should probably find something better to do, such as write ridiculous animal stories in their lunch breaks.

So:

Bernice had decided one day that she was going to buy a hat. She was pretty fond of hats, they tended to get her the most compliments from gentlemen hens, and she did like a nice compliment from a gentleman hen.

The charity shop greeted her with its usual smell of old books and Frank Sinatra as she moseyed in through the doorway. She said “hello” to the voluntary worker behind the counter and shuffled onward to the clothing section at the back.

There were many hats. Many hats. A lesser hen would have panicked and turned to leave at the sight of so many hats. There were splendid top hats and bowler hats, old flat caps, and even a paper crown from a Christmas cracker. Bernice began to rummage through the heaps of headgear, and after a short time she discovered a lovely looking grey/brown fur hat. Synthetic of course, as she was against fur and didn’t buy into that whole “oh it’s vintage, dear” bollocks that people say.

Paying a hefty fifty pence, she left the charity shop happily displaying her new hat on her bobbing head all the way home. And then the hat spoke.

“I’m not a hat, you know.”

Bernice very nearly needed to change her hen pants at this, but tried to control herself.

“You’re not a hat?!” she coughed.

“No,” the not-a-hat said.

“Well what are you then?!” Bernice was very confused.

“I’m Sebastian, I fell into the pile of hats while trying on a flat cap. Thank you for rescuing me,” Sebastian smiled.

“Oh, that’s okay. But why didn’t you tell me earlier? You cost me fifty pence!”

“Sorry about that. I’m only small, you see, and I was quite enjoying seeing the world from a little higher up. I’ll pay you the fifty pence back,” Sebastian pulled a 50p from his hedgehog pocket and handed it to Bernice before hopping off her head onto the floor. “It was very nice to meet you.”

With that, Sebastian left.

It was that moment that Bernice decided to stop buying hats.

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I have received strict instructions on how to credit this from Graham (who submitted it on behalf of a friend, thank you):

“Alice Ryley (photographer) with Sebastian (hedgehog). Loved Owner with her True hero.”

“P.S. Sebastian please call Alice… She’s worried about you.”