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 |   So playing the trombone wasn't getting me in enough trouble? |
“Wood-Sprites.” With a wink and a nod, the Leprechaun was confident that his gift of blarney would carry the day. Pub Bunny started to say, “bless you.” He stopped; he wasn’t falling for that Trix again. Nope, he wasn’t a Silly Rabbit! He did have an answer to the question, though. “Those are Bunny Hotels, built for the Great Easter Bunny Contraption of 1933!” Anon-Y-Monkey looked puzzled. “Contraption? Oh! You mean Contraction, the great Easter Bunny Contraction of 1933.” “Contraption – contraction, what fuzzy ears is talking about is a Convention, The Great Easter Bunny CONVENTION of 1933. ‘Twas a miff – myth anyway, never happened!” Grumpy eyed his daiquiri glass, frowning at the fact that it was once again empty. He looked around suspiciously for the Imps that had to be stealing sips of his banana-flavored concoction. “Well, Grumpy is right — “Aye.” Interrupting Anon-Y-Monkey, Grumpy added. “Wood-Sprites!” — no, it wasn’t Wood-Sprites. Do you see any trees there, imp? Nope, those urns are Ninja Monkey Hidy Holes! Pointing at himself. “We Ninja Monkeys hide stuff in them so that we can find it later.” “Gold?” Asked a newly alert Leprechaun. “Sasparilla?” Queried the perky Bunny. “No, nothing like that.” Impatiently, Anon-Y-Monkey continued. “We hide trinkets, Merit Badges, and other goodies to give away as prizes.” “Give Away!” Miffed at the loss of profit. “Are ye sayin’ give away — for Free? “Well Yeah! — Pete, the Pastry Chef from the Ninja Monkey Pastry Shop, interrupted Anon-Y- Monkey. “That’s not what they are at all — “— Oh yeah! Mister Know It All Pastry Chef, then what are they? — those are the next set of giant mixing bowls I ordered for next March’s Banana Cream Pie Festival!” Andre looked over from the bar. “You’re all idjits, as the idjit Leprechaun would say. And you’re all wrong.” Clamoring all at once; “Oh Yeah?” “Those are fighting words.” “What makes you the expert? “What’s an idjit?” Andre answered them in turn, “Anon-Y-Monkey, we may be related, but sometimes I wonder about you. As for you ya’ blarney spoutin’ imp, anytime ya’ wanna’ take this outside, I’m gamey. What makes me the expert, Pete? Ask yourself this; Who owns the bar?” Andre just looked at Pubby and shook his head in wonder. Pub Bunny took that as his cue. “So what are they then, Andre?” “Simple.” With a smirk. It’s the setup for a giant game of Rum Pong! Now, all of ya’s shut up so I can get drunk in peace. Word Count ▼ |
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