Pot Luck Theater Returns!

The united man-killers of the animal world gathered around the meeting table in their underground lair, cackling (hissing, growling, snapping, roaring) about their plans to end human world dominance.

“My hatchlings and I will poison the humans in their sleep,” said Black Widow.  “They won’t know what hit them.”

“Ssssnake poison will kill many,” said Rattler.  “And my boa constrictor bros will ssstrangle and sssswallow many more!”

“My armies will peck them to death,” said Woodpecker.  “P-p-p-p-peck them all!”

Wolfie turned to Chippie the Chipmunk next.  “What about you, little one?  How on Earth do you expect to murder the humans and clear the way for Nature to restore beauty and balance to the world?  Cute them to death?  Dart across streets when their vehicles are traveling at high rates of speed?”

Chippie sprang onto his hind legs and beat his chest with his itsy-bitsy widdle paws.  “Quack Quack Quack!”  He did a back flip and landed in a full-blown martial arts stance, whiskers quivering adorably over his sweet little overbite.

“Oh no!  It’s him!”  Lionsides whirled and charged for the escape tunnel.  “It’s Quackenbush, back from the dead!”

“That’s right, foul creatures!”  Chippie pointed his bottom at Crocophile and cranked out six rounds of hot lead that had “kill shot” written all over it.  “You shan’t destroy the human race so long as the Kid-You-Nauts yet draw breath within this mortal sphere!”

Ratatat the sewer rat leaped across the lair, claws extended.  Chippie spun and slashed him from chin to groin with a horse-chestnut spur lashed to his foreleg.  Ratatat squealed as he dropped to the dirt floor, sending up a cloud of mold.

“*Blubble* Why?  *Blubble*” said poison-barbed Man-o-War the deadly jellyfish, floating in a watery channel just outside the lair.  His ribbony arms wove complex patterns on the other side of the big window.  “*Blubble* Humans have always let you down, Quackenbush. *Blubble*”

“It’s called a ‘love/hate’ relationship,” said Quackenbush.  “Now prepare to die!  It is we who declare war on you.  All anti-human species are hereby marked for extinction!  But look on the bright side!”

“What bright side is that?” said Scorpionette as he charged forward with tail thrashing.

“Your vilified symbolic presence will continue to enliven our literature and films!” said Quackenbush, in the body of Chippie, as his wiggly widdle chipmunk fuzzy wuzzy squeakums whipped out a screaming bad metaphor and tore every last killer critter into shreds of magic realism.

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