Prickly Pals

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Prickly Pals
October 14 2002 at 7:39 PM
Harbinger of Death 

Sairah was just getting the last bits of splatted chocolate cake off the walls when she heard the oven timer go off. “What are you doing,” she called out to her flatmate.

“Nothing,” came an innocent-sounding reply from the kitchen.

“You’re not making chocolate cake again, are you?”

“Of course not!” He sounded offended.

Maigrey, who was helping with the cleaning, raised an eyebrow. She sneaked to the kitchen door. “Aha!” she cried. “Cupcakes!”

“AX!” Sairah howled.

“Did someone say chocolate?” Aquillea paused by the partially open door.

“Come on in,” Sairah sighed.

“I didn’t say she could come in,” axman said, oven-mitted hands on his hips. “Now it’s three against one.”

“Not if you have chocolate,” Aquillea said. “I’ll side with you if you have chocolate.”

“Listen, ax, I’ve had it with you and exploding confections.”

“What? He didn’t say the chocolate was explosive!”

“You didn’t even help me clean up the first round, and you’re not going to make another.”

“I can if I want. I live here, too.”

“You know what?” Sairah said angrily. “You are just as prickly as a porcupine!”


“Now you’ve done it,” said prickly ax. And he really was. They all were.

“Oh look,” said Aquillea. “Now I really am quilly.”

“This is all your fault, you know, ax.”

“How is this my fault??”

“I don’t know, but everything is your fault somehow, so I thought I’d point it out.”

“Don’t get too close to me, you’ll poke me!” They tried to waddle around each other carefully.

“You know,” said axman thoughtfully, “this must be some kind of error. I think we’ve been transformed into the predator by accident.”

“You’re probably right. For a change,” said Maigrey. “I can’t see how anything could eat us when we’re covered with all these quills. Ah, here comes our prey.” They all stared at the slender, long, otter-like creatures that appeared by some wet logs nearby. The animals’ fur was shiny and thick. “I think those are fisher cats. They’re not really related to cats, but that’s what they call them back home.”

“So, should we eat them, or what? How do we get out of this?”

“I can’t. I’m vegetarian.”

“They’re so dumb! Look how close they’re getting to us!” axman snorted derisively. Sure enough, the fisher cats were eyeballing the porcupines, and drawing closer. “I guess we might as well pounce, or whatever it is we do.”

However, they did not get the chance to pounce or waddle or anything at all, for the fisher cats attacked each of them, directly in the head where they were vulnerable. Then they flipped the porcupines on their backs and devoured their soft little bellies.  
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