A young, good-looking rabbit with wonderful hair took aim. He stuck out his tongue in concentration, remembered that tongues and bunny teeth don't mix, and stuck it back in again.
"Careful," he said to himself. "If I don't get rid of this nitwit, no one can." The terrapin had sent a band of promenading poodles to his latest action-filled bunny premiere, Galleycat. The turtle must pay.
He pulled the trigger.
"Damn it!" he yelled. "I told you to give me the clue gun, not the glue gun!" He tried to wipe the hot paste from his paws, but it continued to stick. That was, after all, its job. "Hand me the Bat Segundo, or I'll never get this off."
"Okay, okay, but you don't have to snark about it." A smaller rabbit hopped over and handed the thespian turned renegade a jar. "You know, if you mix bat Segundo with will-o-the-wisp extract, it'll get rid of any bunion."
"I don't have bunions," the other rabbit replied.
"Well, just in case. That's what my mother always told me, you can never have enough bunion cures."
"That's because your mother wears Army boots."
"What's an Army?"
"I don't know. Boot makers, I suppose." Then, as the glue fumes were getting to him, he added, "Roar of the Greasepaint, smell of the crowd."
"Oh dear," his companion said, "he's all in a muddle again. I really must learn the difference between clue and glue. You there!"
Another rabbit, who was conveniently standing nearby, yelled, "What do you want?"
"Drop everything and give me ten books!"
The rabbit, you see, was even more conveniently putting into action his brainchild: an outdoor library called Tomener. It was not getting off to a very good start, as the rabbit had a tendency to gnaw the ears off of anyone who happened to give it a look he didn't like. Most of the inhabitants of Cloonitannia were now deaf.
"What books do you want?"
"Oh, anything really, that explains the difference between clue and glue. I'm not very particular."
"I'm afraid I can't help you."
"I'm not a librarian at all, you see," the bunny said, sticking proudly sticking out his chest. "I'm a carrot counter."
"Oh." He looked a bit disappointed, as well he might. His commander was now attempting, in a bat Segundo induced frenzy, to attach one of his own feet to a key chain for good luck.
"Have you got anything I could use?" he asked piteously.
"Well'" the Tomener rabbit inched closer. "There's not much I can do for you. I can't read. It's your own fault if you got into this mess." He inched closer and closer. "if you come along, trying to give people a clue" and here he pounced.
It was not much of a fight, as the handsome actor/commander kept forgetting whose side he was on; but in the end all three rabbits left without ears. Two of them, however, were able to console themselves with this: They never had bunions, and always had gin.
attaching his own foot to a keychain for luck? oh man, I am laughing!
Disqualified; word count 514. Drabbit.