The Diabolical Marshmallow Bunny Attack

As Logged By:

 Agent Chase

Camping can be so much fun,

Especially for Grandma and her son.

Her three grand-babies are delighted

For the bag of marshmallows has them excited.

But woodland bunnies love marshmallows, too!

They’ll attack before anyone can say, “BOO!”

Saving Grandma will be quite rough.

But her three grand-babies are tough!

 

 

It was a perfect day to go for a camping trip. Grandma packed the bags with food and her son, the Sheriff, packed the tent and tools.

Three, little grand-babies watched with glee. This was their first camping trip and they knew what came once the sun went down and the fire was started. Marshmallows. Warm, gooey, roasted marshmallows.

Into the woods, the five of them went. Grandma and the Sheriff singing camping songs as the babies hummed along. They pointed at threes, they watched birds fly, and they laughed at the cute bunnies bouncing across their path.

If only they knew…

“Who’s ready for marshmallows?” Grandma announced with a great heap of excitement and everyone cheered when she speared a dozen fluffy delights onto her special roasting stick.

Crack!

“Did you hear something?” The Sheriff asked.

Crack!

What was that? The three babies gasped.

There was no warning cry, no battle calls to announce their arrival. The hoard of bunnies hopped out of the bushes like a speeding carpet covering the woodlands’ floor. Hundreds jumped on the unsuspecting campers, stealing every single marshmallow they could find.

“You can’t have these!” Grandma stuck her hand in the air to save the perfectly roasted marshmallows stuck to her stick.

But, the bunnies wouldn’t accept defeat.

They nabbed Grandma and carried her off. By the time the Sheriff got the mound of bunnies off of him, Grandma was gone.

“We have to save Grandma,” the sheriff boldly decided

And the marshmallows, too. The babies agreed.

The four of them hurried, there was not a moment to lose. They had to save Grandma. They had to, they had to!

“Shh,” the sheriff whispered when he spotted a white ball of fluff. They crept closer to find a bunny that was hiding.

Not hiding. No, no.

Guarding.

A twig in one paw, this bunny was guarding the entrance to the secret bunny lair. In there was Grandma. In there they had to go.

They snuck past the guard, never once making a sound. They tiptoed into the lair. They kept close to the wall as they went further in.

“Grandma?” The Sheriff called once they found the bunny prison.

“Is that you guys?” Grandma said and grabbed the bars. “Get me out of here. This cell is smaller than small and I’m only five-foot-two.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you out.”

But, no sooner had the Sheriff said that, then the bunnies attacked. They sprang from every nook and every cranny. They darted about, ready to pounce.

The Sheriff was ready. He came prepared. From behind his back he pulled out the ultimate weapon: The Stink Infested Dousing Gun 2000.

Toots shot here and there. The walls becoming filled with the horrid stink everywhere.

“Oh, that’s awful,” Grandma complained, but it wasn’t enough to get the bunnies to run away.

We have to help the Sheriff, one of the babies cried. Together the three tooted and tooted and tooted.

The bunnies could take no more for nothing smells worse than a baby’s toot, make that a baby’s toot times three.

They sprinted away and Grandma called out, “Let’s get out of here before I pass out!”

 

Upcoming Log:  A Diabolical Chicken Soup for the Soul Announcement

Previous Log: Diabolical Trick or Treat