[Down Time (2)]
Originally posted on alt.devilbunnies in segments from Oct. 7 through November 16, 1995. The first two segments, "Down Time" refer to a computer system that had been given by an anonymous donor (the AWF) to Maine Fudd Volunteers. Text quoted from "previous" segments are in ITALICS
Special thanks to Andrew "Admiral Marlin" Weitzman for his contributions and the invention of the Bunny Marines.
Story © 1995-2002 by Scott Bernier except for Andrew's post and his BunnyMarine characters named in said post, which he has copyrights to and was kind enough to allow me to use.
HTML-ized by Scott Bernier by hand January 20-28, 1997.
Firsts for this story: First heavy use of Bunny Marines by other than the creating author and the introduction of the Lumberjack Fudds.
History: During this time period, LonGears was assumed dead after the Battle of NoCO in the spring of 1995. Admiral Marlin was in charge of devilbunny forces in his place.
Return to Moxie Man's Stories Index.
October 1, 1995--Maine Fudd Volunteers Coordination Base, China, ME.
OK Steve, let's try this new gift pentium system first....
***BunnyStumper Deluxe Activated***
Hopefully this is getting out properly. If all goes well, we will be ab@#$=
&&($#UJKDHGUIFH*& =
***END CARRIER***
Eugene leaped back as smoke scented with melting resistors wafted-up from the computer. He yanked the plug and grab the fire extinguisher, but the damage had already been done.
"What the hell happened?" the pro-Fudd devilbunny inquired.
"How should I know, I'm a meteorologist. Ask me about dew-points, hurricanes and the ozone hole, not about computers. I'll send this and it's working twin to Chris and see what he finds. In the meantime, I guess we'll try to assemble Aldin's main frame."
October 4--Natowski's TV, VCR, and Computer Repair Service, Waterville, ME.
Eugene walked into the workshop garage to observe Chris and his boss, Mike Natowski, putting yet another dead television out of its misery.
"Fire in the hole!" A concrete-filled microwave weighing about 400lbs falls from the ceiling and smashes a 25 inch (63.5 cm) table top model tv into small pieces. The crazy (destructive) repair business owner films it. Eugene ducks as glass and plastic fly past him. Chris and Mike break-down laughing.
"Just like *POP*ping rabbits, no two react exactly the same way!" Mike stammered between guffaws. They notice Eugene for the first time. "Just in time, Gene! We're going to put your PC under the microwave next."
"What?!"
"You heard Mike, Gene," Chris replied. "We found the problem. The computers you received were not only bunny-built, they have a virus built into the AMIBIOS that makes the whole system self-destruct if you attempt to program and run BunnyStumper™ in it."
They proceeded into the workshop. There were pieces-parts all over the place from various gutted electronic gizmos that would never run again. Chris directed Gene over to one workbench covered with cute-multi-hued pastel microcomputer chips. Chris indicated the chips.
"These survived the 'meltdown' in that Pentium you toasted the other day. The microprocessor was still slightly legible. It was manufactured by Buntel™ electronics. It could have done worse things than burn itself out. As you can see (points to opened PC at far end of workbench) the other has the same tell-tale design. Since you can't really return an anonymous gift, there is only one good use for this system...."
Gene turns as he hears Mike start-up his '72 Cadillac outside the garage and shifts the 610 horse powered monster into reverse. He watches the cement-filled microwave begin to hoist off the floor by a cable system.
"...to put it out of it's misery before someone gets hurt. It'll be a great filming as those multi-colored chips go flying. Could get on America's Stupid Video's if that network wasn't bunny-owned."
Gene sighs. He hated to have to throw-away such a costly gift, but what choice was there? "Very well....BUT I want to release the cable."
"No problem. Oh, and I think I may be able to get Aldin's main frame running late Friday or Saturday...."
They proceeded-out to the garage and put-on the proper safety equipment--gloves and safety goggles. They positioned the camera and computer accordingly and started the camera rolling. As the microwave crushed the bunnypentium PC, multi-hued chips flew throughout the garage, the workshop floor and out into the street. Eugene found it almost as therapeutic as killing buns. He also got the humor behind the 'Microwave in Use' sign above the garage door. He contemplated for a moment what using the microwave on a bunny would look like......
October 7, 1995--Maine Fudd Volunteers Coordination Base, China, ME
"That should do it, Gene," Chris said as he closed the last casing door on the main frame. "Let's boot it up and see what happens."
The system worked and worked quite well. Thanks to negotiations with a local university, they had a direct T-1 line to the Internet. Gene began to play "catch-up" on the news in alt.devilbunnies. He read through a post by Admiral Marlin and paled.
"Impossible..." <\P>
"What?" Chris asked. <\P>
"Bill Keyes has resigned from the leadership of the Army of Fudd, or so these buns
claim...look, here's confirmation from fellow Fudds. The BHX has resigned. And the buns are
going to have a party at P.A.W." Gene convulsed with anger. "Well, they will not be celebrating
for long. Send Steve in, Chris. I have some planning to do."<\P>
Several hours later.....
(STOMP!!!) "It's too soon! Some of the new recruits aren't ready for such work yet. Don't make me pull rank on you, Gene. This is your operation and I'm only suppose to be observing...but this...this is suicide!"
Gene took a deep breath and sighed. "Steve, I suppose you haven't heard the news...." He filled Steve in on the news behind the BHX's resignation and indicated several articles on the Internet. Steve did an almost complete turn-around, while Gene continued. "I'm not going to send the raw recruits in the front line. That's for the more experienced hunters. We are going to show those fluffers that the Army of Fudd is nothing to laugh at. I'll take responsibility for the outcome, just back me on this for now, Steve."
Major Steve Blake, the pro-Fudd devilbunny, (hesitantfluffed) and accepted the sergeant's plan. They started that evening....
[Maine Fall Cleaning and BUNIX Widebeam (Was: Down
Time)]
(panicfluff) "Send out the call now! We can't hold the Fudds back!"
*****BUNIX WIDEBEAM ACTIVATED*****
This is LT Snowpatch broadcast#*($%&*(#$%&Deeringwarren, North Deering,
Maine. We are under heavy Fudd attack and request immediate as()#$&%*(&@#*($%&
*****end carrier signal*****
Snowpatch looks-up as his computer short-circuits under the liquid barrage coming from the doorway. He launches himself at the intruding Fudds who hopelessly outnumber him and dies under the axe, but not before he chomps a toe. The scent of Moxie™ lingers in the air afterwards, as do the curses of one Fudd with 9 toes.
Later that evening....
******BUNIX WIDEBEAM ACTIVATED*****
(STOMP!!!) (STOMP!!!) (STOMP!!!) (STOMP!!!)
This is an automated message from Munjoywarren, largest warren in the Portland, ME area. We
are under heavy Fud*($%*(#$(*%
*****end carrier signal*****
These type of messages are repeated from other major and minor warrens and outposts through-out southern and central Maine over the next 4 to 5 days including: Saco, Sanford, Lewiston-Auburn, Bath/Bruswick, Augusta, Waterville, Newport, Ellsworth/Bar Harbor (Bah Hahbah), and Bangor. No messages sent to them are acknowledged.
[Maine Fall Cleaning (2--BUNIX WIDEBEAM)]
*****BUNIX WIDEBEAM ACTIVATED*****
This is()*&#$%*(*HJ(#$&PIORM<NWKJ?|)~
*****end carrier*****
The comtech aborted the message as a Supersoaker™ was shoved into his furry face. It reeked of Moxie™.
"Well, fluffah, you can die slowly and painfully," the Fudd indicated the Supersoaker™. "Or you can do as I tell you and perhaps we will kill you quickly and mercifully or maybe even just make you a prisionah of wah. Nod if you undahstand."
The commtech nodded slowly.
The Fudd grinned. "Good. I want you to innitiate a BUNIX WIDEBEAM. I'm not interested in getting a copy of that code..your mentats will change the code within days anyway."
The commtech slowly turned back to his terminal and did as the Fudd told him. (shiverfluff) "The Widebeam has been activated, monkey."
"Your behavoir will determine what we do with you fluffer." He picked-up the pink microphone with one hand, while keeping the Supersoaker centered on the bun and began to broadcast a message.
Admiral Marlin,
By now it should be cleah to you what is happenin' up heah in Maine, unless you've had too much at your pahty already. Just because our leadah has allegedly resigned does not mean that the Army of Fudd is dead. Howevah, I can be reasonable. I grow board of killin' devilbunnies up heah. They offah no challange. It's like huntin' moose--they'ah too stupid to run. Maine is FUDD territory. I'll give you 24 hours to evacuate the rest of the warrens up heah before I continue to cleanse the state of you vehmin. If you fail to comply, theah deaths shall be on your paws.
Any of you Maine Buns that maybe listenin' in, don't wait for the Admiral's go-ahead. Think about your lives, those of your mates and your kits and cleah-out while you can, othahwise LL Fudd will be havin' a special on rabbit-fuh lined Mad Bombah Hats™ again this yeah. (snicker)
Sgt. Eugene Pomerleau, Maine Fudd Volunteers
(He places the microphone down. "Terminate signal.")
*****End Widebeam*****
(hopefulfluff) "Now you'll let me go?" (nosetwitch)
"Nice try fluffah. Pull any more attempts at cuteness and we'll see how cute you appeah drenched in Moxie™. For now we wait."
Eugene wasn't sure if the tactic would work, however it was worth the shot. He had to try and get an idea as to how many warrens, if any, may be left in southern and central Maine. Unfortunately, this was the last one he knew about and the fluffers had already flushed the appropriate portion of the memory base. He knew it was a risky adventure. The buns could just trace the signal to the warren his troops had conquered beneath Munjoy Hill in Portland and send help. He was prepared for that, for he had the abandoned water tower at the top of the hill filled with Moxie™. Just let the buns come, he'd even give the warren back to them, but they wouldn't stay for long. His real goal at the moment was to be the rain on the Admiral's party.
Just then his headset buzzed. "SGT, sir! We found what maybe some sort of tunnel. It has several sets of tracks in it."
"Excellent, private," Eugene replied. "Is theah what might appeah to be a cah or transpoht of sohts down theah?"
"Yes, several sir."
"You got the dynamite and the charges? Good. Set them in each of the cahs, send them on theah way in different directions along with a homin' beacon. Once they ah out in the countryside, detonate the charges."
"Yes, sir. At once."
Eugene chuckled to himself, thinking the dismay/shock/surprise reaction any fluffers heading their way via bunnymover would have upon finding their tunnel system caved-in/flooded.
From: marlin@PAW.org (Admiral Marlin)
Subject: Maine Fall Cleaning 3--BUNIX WIDEBEAM
"TECH!"
"Yessir!"
"Was that BUNIX widebeam authentic?"
"It was sir. That can only mean--"
"[snarl] I know what it be meaning, laddie. Now, prepare th' following 'beams fer immediate transmission..."
*********NAVYBUNIX TIGHBEAM TO NORFOLKWARREN*******
Commodore Barracuda! Prepare th' Second Flotilla o' th' Devilbunny Navy fer shipping out. Ye are being tasked wi' a high-priority rescue mission tae Portland, Maine. Ready yer forces fer an amphibuous assault, 'n make th' Spamapults aboard th'Fuzzy-Nought Salmon Patty fer shore bombardment!
Sail as soon as ye be ready!
**********NAVYBUNIX TIGHTBEAM DISENGAGED**********
*****NAVYBUNIX TIGHTBEAM TO BOSTON STATION******
BunnyMarine Lieutenants Grouper 'n Catfish, prepare yer troopers at the Boston BunnyMarine Base fer an opposed landing at Portland. We ha' indications tha' Maine be Fudd-controled. Th' warren in tha' city be in their hands. Make ready th' 1st 'n 7th Bunny-Marine Companies fer a full-on assault o' th' human positions. Use BunnyMarine armor.
Ye be ordered tae secure a beachead at Portsmouth. If th' humans be able tae resist an offensive by 200 BunnyMarines, ye will be in charge o' evacuating as many buns as possible from southern Maine.
******NAVYBUNIX TIGHTBEAM DISENGAGED*******
*******NAVYBUNIX TO THE CITADEL, HALIFAX********
Commander Cod, ready yer East Coast Transport Fleet tae steam towards Portland, Maine. Load one transport wi' enough supplies fer a two-week amphib-uous assault on an occupied coast. Send five others empty fer a possible mass-evacuation o' th' Maine warrens. Rendezvous wi' th' Second Flotilla off of Biddleford, Maine in three days.
*****NAVYBUNIX TIGHTBEAM DISENGAGED******
And all along the Eastern Seaboard, silent swift ships start to sail towards the shores of Maine...
[Reply tightbeams to Adm Marlin (Was: Maine Fall
Cleaning)]
*********NAVYBUNIX TIGHBEAM TO NORFOLKWARREN*******
Commodore Barracuda! Prepare th' Second Flotilla o' th' Devilbunny Navy fer shipping out. Ye are being tasked wi' a high-priority rescue mission tae Portland, Maine.
**********NAVYBUNIX TIGHTBEAM DISENGAGED**********
*****REPLY TIGHTBEAM TO ADMIRAL MARLIN ENGAGED *****
Portland!!!??? (snarlfluff) Those monkeys will pay dearly, Admiral! We be settin' sail as I speak. We should be able to launch our assault by t'morro' morn.
Commodore Barracuda
**********NAVYBUNIX TIGHTBEAM DISENGAGED**********
*****NAVYBUNIX TIGHTBEAM TO BOSTON STATION******
BunnyMarine Lieutenants Grouper 'n Catfish, prepare yer troopers at the Boston BunnyMarine Base fer an opposed landing at Portland. We ha' indications tha' Maine be Fudd-controled. Th' warren in tha' city be in their hands. Make ready th' 1st 'n 7th BunnyMarine Companies fer a full-on assault o' th' human positions. Use BunnyMarine armor.
*****REPLY TIGHTBEAM*****
Aye, Aye Admiral! (salutefluff) The blood o' Fudds shall fill Portland Harbor before t'morro' eve!
Ye be ordered tae secure a beachead at Portsmouth. If th' humans be able tae resist an offensive by 200 BunnyMarines, ye will be in charge o' evacuating as many buns as possible from southern Maine.
(doubtfulfluff) We shall do so, sir, but the Fudds won't be able to resist the assault o' two full BunnyMarine Companies.
LT Grouper
******NAVYBUNIX TIGHTBEAM DISENGAGED*******
*******NAVYBUNIX TO THE CITADEL, HALIFAX********
Commander Cod, ready yer East Coast Transport Fleet tae steam towards Portland, Maine. Load one transport wi' enough supplies fer a two-week amphibuous assault on an occupied coast. Send five others empty fer a possible mass-evacuation o' th' Maine warrens. Rendezvous wi' th' Second Flotilla off of Biddleford, Maine in three days.
*****REPLY TIGHTBEAM*****
As you order, Admiral, the transports and supplies will be waiting and ready.
Cmdr Cod.
*****NAVYBUNIX TIGHTBEAM DISENGAGED******
Eugene heard a sound and whipped around with his scout axe, the supersoaker still pointed on the comm tech. He relaxed slightly as he saw Major Steve Blake, the pro-Fudd devilbunny, enter the computer room.
"Time's up, Gene. I warned you this would be foolishness. Marlin's probably got half of P.A.W. on their way here now."
"How? We've blown every bunnymover tunnel we could find, we've got Fudds in charge of the toll booths on the interstate and others watching the other roads into the state, not to mention those watching the Canadian border."
"Have you forgotten something, Sergeant, or did you spend too much time in Lubbock to remember that Maine has a 3,000 mile long coastline once you stretch-out all the little coves and inlets."
"SHI^H^H^H[pig-13]! But, how could they assault us from the sea on such short notice. There are no Fudd reports of any devilbunny naval activity in the Atlantic."
(notsosurefluff) "That was before Marlin took command of the devilbunny militia. Do you think an Admiral is going to leave the Atlantic navy-less if given the power he now controls. It's only a matter of time."
Eugene paused for a moment, long enough for the comm tech devilbunny to but-in.
(angerfluff) "You traitor! How can you work for these monkeys!" He leaped for Major Blake's throat. Gene dropped the supersoaker and stood at ready with his axe, knowing better than to get in the Major's way.
Blake batted the bun aside, but not before receiving a long gash on his left flank. He snarled at the comm tech bun. "I am no traitor to my race, the human race, fluffer. I didn't choose to have my body changed to this, but I shall take full advantage of it to wipe your kind off the face of the planet." His wound began to heal as he leaped at the comm bun. They dealt out equal numbers of blows for about five minutes, but with Blake's wounds healing rapidly, the comm tech wound-up on the losing end. The comm tech staggered aside and panted.
"Tratiorbun, you will pay..." came forth from his muzzle as he fell forward and breathed no more.
Blake began to clean the blood from his fur. After a full minute, he continued. "Sergeant, you were foolish to contact the Admiral to begin with." (STOMP!) "What have I taught you from the beginning? NEVER trust a devilbunny. He's not going to evacuate anybunny as long as he thinks he can retake the land we have freed from bunny influence. During my earlier years of spying on them for the Fudds, I learned some of their battle tactics. As long as they think there is the slimmest of chances for success, they will attack. The comm tech here proved that. We need to prepare for any assault that may be coming our way within the next 36 hours. From this point on, I'm no longer just observing, I'm taking over this operation. Round-up the men, we've got a lot of work to do to prepare for our visitors." (commandfluff)
"Yes, sir." Gene saluted Blake and left. Blake followed Gene a few moments later after planting a few explosives in the command center. This was one warren the buns weren't going to resettle easily.
TBC in Battle o' Portland
And all along the Eastern Seaboard, silent swift ships start to sail towards the shores of Maine...
6PM--36 hours after the first call to arms about 5 miles off of Biddeford Point (Pool), Maine aboard the war room of the Salmon Patty...
(commandfluff) "Report."
"Commodore, The 1st and 7th BunnyMarine Companies are equipped and ready, sir!" LT Catfish (salutefluff)ed.
"The beachhead requested in Portsmouth is secured, sir! 20 o' me best buns are insuring it stays that way." LT Grouper piped in.
"Both the Lobster Buoy and the Windy Gale are ready for assault landing, sir!" added Captain Bass of the Lobster Buoy.
"Spamapults are primed and ready for action, Sir!" Gunnery Officer (CPO) Mackerel replied.
"Excellent. This be our target...."
Commodore Barracuda lay the navigational chart down on the table in front of him. "These Fudds aren't as stupid as they look. Munjoywarren was situated on the most defensible piece o' land in Portland." He pointed to a dot on a peninsula in the middle of Portland adjacent to Portland Harbor on the southeast, Casco Bay to the northeast and the Back Cove to the west. "It's built into Munjoy Hill, the tallest point in the city. This point o' land as ye can see juts up almost 300 feet, nearly vertically from the water on one side with steep approaches from the other sides." He continued to indicate several islands just offshore.
"Furthermore, Portland is harbored from the worst o' gales by these 10 islands in Casco Bay, most of which 'ave abandoned forts upon 'em. The Fudds could be holdin' up on any or all of them, so any assault will have to include a sweep o' these islands."
"Sir, I doubt the Fudds are that smart."
Barracuda whacked LT Catfish on the side of the head. Catfish reeled back. "You're out of order, LT! This is not a discussion, this is a battle plan. We don't know how smart these Fudds may be. However, they have captured Munjoywarren and we have lost contact with about 10 other warrens in the region from York to Bangor."
Cartfish (appologeticfluffed) as Barracuda continued.
"Once the islands have been swept for hostile forces, I want the 1st Company to land here at the north end o' the peninsula and scale the hill. Meanwhile the 7th will go in from the docks and approach the hill from the south and east. I have made contact with Elizawarren south o'Portland. The Fudds haven't hit them yet and they will be supplying 50 buns, refuge warriors from various warrens the Fudds have taken, under the command of LT CrimsonPaw of Sunset Warren, the highest ranking officer that we know of left in Southern Maine....."
Barracuda (glarefluff)ed down any potential protests of mixing regulars with BunnyMarines. "The Fudds have attacked their warrens, if the native buns wish to participate in the retaking of their lands, they have vengeance rights to do so. No bun is to attack the Fudds until the signal is given. That signal o' course bein' the firin' o' the Spamapaults after the beachheads are secured and we know where the Fudd landlubbers be a hidin'. We begin our attack at midnight beneath Inle's full gaze. Any questions....then begin preparations."
"This is Pvt Leterneau, all clear."
"Confirmed, Private, report again in an hour."
Pvt Leterneau didn't here the reply as his throat was being ripped apart from an assailant behind him. The BunnyMarine quickly munched on two of the Fudd's toes before checking in.
"Red Leader, this is Fluffyone. House Island is secure. Only two Fudds. We have less than an hour before these landlubbers are missed."
"Acknowledged Fluffyone, Red Leader out."
Red Leader, aka LT Catfish, signal for Pickerel and Perch platoons to begin their assault upon the northern point of the peninsula. 50 Bunny-Marine Armored buns dropped from the sides of the Lobster Buoy and made their way towards shore. Four buns flew out of the water as one and overpowered two police officers and a drug addict who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Three bodies made soft splashes into the waters of Casco Bay. Then all was quiet as more and more buns began to land on shore and secure the beach-head for the Lobster Buoy.
Security guard Fortier was contemplating how to make another boring uneventful night go by faster at the city dock. No one ever tried to steal their vehicles from the impoundment lot around here. They simply paid their fine or sent the city a sympathy/thank you card for taking "That heap of junk off my hands". Nothing exciting ever happened around here. If there was an auto accident up in the northern woods, it made state-wide news for 3 days. That's how much happened in Maine.
Fortier was fighting a dozing spell when he heard the racket and the dogs out in the lot barking, then whining into silence. "Probably another raccoon..." he mumbled as he got up to investigate. He couldn't believe his eyes at what he saw, nor did he have time to react. The shock that hit him as he went down caused him to think his last thought clearly: I wonder how long I'll be in the news for this....
By 1:30AM the 1st and 7th BunnyMarine companies had their beachheads secured and the Lobster Buoy and Windy Gale were unloading troops and supplies. Scouts began combing the city for Fudds.
LT Catfish was getting angry. His scouts had been out now for an hour and had not found any large Fudd concentrations. They had found the occasional pair or two and dispatched the landlubbers, but they had found no real resistance to their scouts. He didn't like this. The Fudds couldn't have just abandoned the city after sending their taunting message out.
Meanwhile....
A lone generic bread truck was making it's way along Washington St, the largest street on Munjoy Hill. It had no problem making its way to the Eastern Promenade as the buns where scouting-out via back streets. It's driver and passenger were not symps, but Fudds. They spotted a potential target below them.
"I knew they'd show-up sooner or later. I've removed all the ropes, Mike." Chris Pomerleau said as he untied the last of their cargo in the back end. "Give me the word and I'll open the back door."
Mike Natowski shifted the truck into reverse and said, "NOW!"
Chris opened the back doors and leaped out of the way as Mike floored the truck in reverse and hit then quickly hit the brakes. The truck slammed into and smashed a portion of the railing along the Eastern Promenade, 250 feet above Casco Bay. The contents of the truck, an old 1970's vintage IBM and two Digital VAX Mainframes rolled-out of the back of the truck and plummeted down the hill. Chris and Mike watched the action before making their get-away.
"Guess U. Southern Maine will have no choice but to upgrade now!" Chris laughed as he watched the developing carnage below.
Down below....
"Scow, you hear something?" (curiousfluff)
"Yes, sir!" The sailorbun looked-up. (panicfluff) "INCOMING! TAKE COVER!"
LT Catfish looked-up to see three large metal boxes tumbling down towards his troops. Everybun scrambled out of the way. One bun was crushed out right while two others received broken paws. The ancient mainframes, each weighing at least 1500 lbs (680kg), plowed through the base camp and leaped off the makeshift dock and slammed into the Lobster Buoy. The converted fishing vessal groaned under the assault and tipped to far to port and swamped. LT Catfish looked-up intime to see the bread truck speed away.
A rather wet Captain Bass swam to shore along with he rest of his crew from the Buoy.
(STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!) "How in Inle could you let this happen!" He immediately yelled at the LT. "I want those landlubbers captured alive! They'll walk the plank on the Salmon Patty for this insult!" (STOMP!)
The plank referred to here did not dump its victims into the sea, but into the hopper of the Patty's Spam-O-Matic ™.
"Yes, sir! Right away, sir! I'll also assign a platoon to start raising yer ship off the bottom o'the bay." LT Catfish ordered his buns to pursue the bread truck and requested spamapault cover fire from the Patty and quickly briefed Commodore Barracuda on the situation.
(STOMP!) "Those landlubber Fudds did what?!"
"They sank the Lobster Buoy, sir." (submissivefluff)
"And you haven't captured them yet!" (STOMP!)
"No, sir." (droopears) "They sped away in a truck before we could scramble to action. The Buoy sank only moments ago. They won't get far."
"They" (glareeyes) "better not, LT. Assure Captain Bass that they will walk the plank in his presence, once you capture them and bring them to me. The Salmon Patty shall begin random Spamapult bombardment in 10 minutes. Commodore Barracuda, out."
LT Catfish (sighfluffed) with relief, for the Commodore didn't want his ears, at least not yet. He turned to his troops and ordered those not busy with the Buoy to follow the others and find the culprit Fudds.
LT Grouper's buns had already found a small group of Fudds in the Old Port near the intersections of Commercial and High Streets. Grouper had signaled the find and heard the news about the Buoy. He obeyed the Commodore and awaited the prearranged signal to attack. In the meantime, they awaited in hiding.
Half-a-mile off shore, the Patty's three Spama-paults fired as one, sending three 150lb shots of Spam ™ sailing towards Portland.
A group of drunks were making their way along Commercial St. It had been hours since the last bar closed, but everyone in this group was too plastered to care. They spotted the para-military dressed group of Fudds and began to approach them.
"Hey soldiah boy, we don't like ya type around heeya! Take a..."
(Short, high pitched whistle followed by SSSSPPPPLLLLOOOOCCCCHHHH!)
Where the group of would be drunk troublemakers, now lay a pink, sticky, oozing mess that reeked of Spam ™. There was no sign of movement by any of the drunken group within the pink ooze.
"For Inle!!!!" As one, six BunnyMarines charged out from their cover and attacked the surprised Fudds. Two lost their throats before they could so much as raise their axes in defense. Two others went down on the third or four pass. The last two, the most experienced actually gave the buns a little challenge, putting themselves back to back. These two were actually able to repel the first 3 unified attacks of the BunnyMarines. The buns regrouped as one of the Fudds attempted to send a radio message for help.
****Bunnystumper Deluxe Local Widebeam******
This is Crpl Bilideau of Chowdah contingent. We have been ambushed on Commercial
Streetb)#$(%&*#*$&*
*****Lost Carrier*****
Bilideau went down under a triple team attack and his headphones were damaged beyond repair. His companion, Pvt Nadeau, had escaped the worst of the attack for the moment and had wounded one of their opponents. One against five armored buns was still not good odds. He backed-up as they attempted to surround him for the kill.
LT Grouper hopped forward. "Do ye surrender," (curiousfluff)"Fudd?"
"Surrendah!? To a bunch of rabbits in sahdine cans!? Nevah!"
"Good."
The five remaining buns rushed as one against the Fudd who was dispatched to Inle within seconds. Grouper's buns feasted on toes while tending to their one wounded who protested being sent back to the Windy Gale.
"It's just a little flesh wound! I can still take on a dozen landlubbars, sir!" the buck protested weakly as he collapsed into unconsciousness.
The rating's wound in fact was a deep gash in his left flank. It was a miracle he had not bled to death.
"Bah! These landlubbers don't stand a chance. Ok, bucks, continue onward. Death to all Fudds!"
His troops now reinforced with more Bunny-Marines from the Windy Gale made their way into downtown Portland.
****Bunnystumper Deluxe Local Widebeam******
This is Crpl Bilideau of Chowdah contingent. We have been ambushed on Commercial
Streetb)#$(%&*#*$&*
*****Lost Carrier*****
"Bilideau, come in! Come in, Bilideau, this is SGT Pomerleau. Report!" Static was his only reply on the headset. "Damn."
*****Local Widebeam Bunnystumper Deluxe*****
All units, Commercial St has been compromised. Fall back! All units report-in at 15 minute intervals.
*****end widebeam*****
Eugene sagged back. Six good Fudds on top of the 12 or so at the assigned outposts on the islands were now dead. How many more would pay for his pig-headedness before all was through? Where was the Major? Eugene began quickly packing the mobile command center. If the buns were on Commercial, it wouldn't be long before they made their way up to Pleasant St. They only needed to hold-out until morning when reinforcements were suppose to arrive.
Steve was doing what he did best, creating dissension from within. He knew he'd have no chance at fooling the BunnyMarines as one of their own, but he knew he could pass himself-off as a local bun. He came upon the Commercial St massacre a little too late to save his comrades, but that wouldn't stop him.
Rating Pickerel was knocked off his paws before he had known what had happened to him.
"You Frithen-be-damn buns from away believe you can steel all the glory in retaking our land!" (angerfluff) Steve attempted to wound the Bunny-Marine. "We don't need your help! Where was the aid years ago when we asked for it?! But now, now it's too late. Damn P.A.W. high command to Hell!" Steve successfully wounded Pickerel before he was pulled-off the bun by two of Pickerel's comrades, who held Steve in place. LT Grouper came over to the commotion.
"Report!"
(salutefluff) "This landlubber attacked Pickerel, sir!"
(dismissivefluff) "Really? What do you have to say for yourself.."
"Private BrownPaw, Ticonicfallswarren, Waterville, sir."
"Well?" (commandfluff)
"What's the meaning of this?" (STOMP!) "How dare you detain one of my bucks!"
LT Grouper turned to face LT CrimsonPaw, commander of the remaining Maine devilbunny militia. "This bun attacked one o' me soldiers without provocation."
LT CrimsonPaw examined BrownPaw (Blake) carefully. "I don't recognize you. When did you arrive?" (glareeyes)
"Earlier this evening. Heard the coward Fudds who destroyed my warren were hiding-out down here. I wanted revenge for what they did."
"We all do, Private, but that's" CrimsonPaw pointed to Pickerel. "not a Fudd!"
"I know, sir! But where were they years ago when we requested for aid from P.A.W. and P.A.W. ignored us. Where were they last week when we called for help? How do we know they won't just stir trouble up worse and then leave us with a bigger problem we already have. We can't trust Buns from away."
"If we didn't need every able paw we can find, I'd have you slapped in irons and face court marshal, private!" He glared into BrownPaw's eyes and continued in a lower, more sinister voice. "P.A.W. sent these BunnyMarines to aid us. We shall work with them. Do I make myself clear, private?"
BrownPaw noted the bun's rank. "Yes, LT!"
CrimsonPaw turned to Grouper. "Release him."
"But he should be flogged for what he has done!" (STOMP!)
"Release him at once! Did not your own Commodore order you to cooperate with us?" He pulled Grouper aside. "Look, this private has openly spoken what many of my buns feel. If you don't release him, I can't guarantee I can control my forces. None of them trust the BunnyMarines. They see them as representatives of the central command that has not been there to aid Maine warrens when we have asked for help. Most of them outright resent having you here and most believe that we can take care of our own problems, which isn't true or you wouldn't be here. Make your and my job easier, release him. He will be disciplined for his actions when this is all over with, IF he survives."
(sighfluff) "Very well, but remember that I will appeal this to the Commodore." Grouper turned to his two bucks holding BrownPaw prisoner. "Release him!"
"But sir!"
(STOMP!) "RELEASE HIM! He will be disciplined after we drive the Fudds out o' Portland."
BrownPaw approached LT CrimsonPaw. "Thank you, sir."
(WHACK!) CrimsonPaw smacked BrownPaw in the muzzle, causing him to fall to the ground dazed. "Let that be a warning to all of you!" (STOMP!) "The Fudds are the enemy, not each other. Now move-out!" He turned to BrownPaw. "I'll be watching you, private. Don't screw-up again."
BrownPaw fell into line. *Well, I'm in, now to start the plan...*
Mike Natowski swerved around the corner onto Cumberland St. Chris Pomerleau was keeping an eye-out for pursuit.
"Nothing yet, Mike," he replied as he turned back to watch where Mike was driving them in the "bor-rowed" generic bread truck. You've seen these kinds of trucks before. They are white with 6 black squares on the side and the word 'BREAD' in black lettering above the six black squares.
Mike opened the truck-up as they sped down Cumberland. He spotted something ahead. "Looks like road kill targets to me," he commented as he pointed-out the two devilbunnies ahead in the road-way. "Wanna bet they dive in opposite directions? Let's go for the one on the left."
Half-a-mile off shore, the Patty's three Spamapaults fired as one, sending three 150 lb shots of Spam™ sailing towards Portland.
The two BunnyMarines stood stock-still for only a moment and then dove out of the way of the oncoming truck. The truck verde left and the satisfying and sickening sound of bunnyarmor being crushed along with its contents emanated from under the truck tires. The truck barreled onward.
"By Inle's wrath!" (STOMP!) "I shall avenge my brother!" The surviving bun gave chase after the receding truck.
"Bullseye! HUHUHUH. I'll have to send a note to his CO saying how I enjoyed running into him..." Mike stopped in mid-sentence as the bread truck suddenly lurched onto it's right side. (SSSSPPPPLLLLOOOOCCCCHHHH!) The truck skidded down the road on its side, coming to a stop against a telephone pole.
"Elmer, what is this crap? You alright, Mike?"
"Looks like Spam™ and lots of it. I'm a little bruised, but otherwise alright. Help me get-out of this seat-belt."
*What luck! I'll have to commend the Commodore's crew and their firing skills," thought the surviving bun as he cautiously approached the Spam coated bread truck. He activated his comm unit.
"This is PO Carp. I have located the bread truck and Fudds responsible for the sinking o' the Lobster Buoy. Nice shooting, Patty yer spamapult fire stopped 'em in their tracks. I am requesting back-up for these two ran down me brother and I swear by Inle that I will avenge his death upon 'em if yea don't send assistance immediately."
Carp approached the vehicle. He was still a good ten feet from it when the back door fell open. A six-foot tall human stepped out and had an arrow aimed at Carp. It was suction-cup tipped.
Carp laughed. "Is that the best ye can do, Fudd? A toy arrow?"
Chris fired, hitting Carp in the chest. Carp looked at the arrow and grinned and went to remove it.
ZZZZAAAAPPPP! The electrical charge that surged through Carp's body sent him back 3 feet and he landed unconscious on the road. It also shorted out his comm unit.
"We better get outa here quickly, Mike."
"Are all you Pomerleau's good at stating the obvious. Come on I know an all night diner near by run by a Fudd symp over on Sheridan. We can hide-out there. What the hell did you use on that arrow any-way?"
They began to run down the street and duck down an alley.
"Come on, Mike. You remember. I put one of the 'smaller' capacitors to use along with some bubble gum. Just enough charge to knock 'em out for a while. I told you I'd find a use for all those spare electronic components some day."
As dawn approached, reports came in from all over Portland and things looked grim to Eugene. The only real victory was reported by his brother and Mike Natowski. And that only killed two buns out-right and injured 3 or 4 others. Elsewhere they were losing ground. The Spam™ bombs where ever they were falling from also exacted a heavy toll. He had lost approximately 24 Fudds during the night, not counting Chowdah patrol or those on the off shore islands. Everywhere they were losing ground against these buns, termed BunnyMarines by Blake before he departed on his mission. He had not heard from Blake since then and prayed that the bun was alright.
The Buns controlled the East End, the Old Port and everything in between. The Fudds would have been totally routed the first night if Eugene and company had not been able to hold Forest Avenue and an escape route off the peninsula. I-295 was also still free of bunny control, but for how long?
Soon after dawn, the Spam™ attacks ceased. One of his look-outs stranded behind Bunny territory atop the Observatory on Munjoy Hill reported spotting a cargo ship 1/2 mile off shore, setting sail for the open water. A pink cargo ship. His line soon after was filled with screams of pain and then silence.
"DAMN!" Eugene slammed the table at the new mobile command center. He picked-up the phone and called in some favors. When that scow returned that evening, which Eugene believed it would, the buns were going to be in for a surprise of their own. He no sooner hung-up the phone when a pulp truck pulled-up in front of his command tent. Three men in wool trousers, red and black flannel shirts, suspenders, steel-toed boots and wielding double-headed wood axes stepped-out. Another 21 piled out of the back. The driver approach Eugene and saluted.
"Corporal Jean St. Pierre of the Northern Maine Lumbahjack Fudds reporting for duty. Wheeya eese the bunnies at?"
Eugene briefed the men on what had happened the previous night and showed them the areas of Portland now bunny controlled on a map. He finished by warning them about the Spam bombs that had exacted heavy casualties already and could be expected to do more so that evening.
"Spam? She is no proBLEM. OK, Jacque, roll'em out!"
A deafening roar emanated from the back of the rig. Two monstrous vehicles backed-out and down the rear ramp. Their cockpits looked somewhat like that of a dune buggy's, but bigger. Each had four huge balloon-like tires with heavy chains around them. On the front of each was a giant metal claw (like seen on some cranes). Eugene smiled as he recognized them immediately, typical Maine wood skidders.
"My toys can handle the worse mire that the backwoods can produce. Spam be no proBLEM. I have two more and another crew of 24 arriving this afternoon. Let's see what bunnies do against lumberjacks, huh?"
He laughed. His platoon of lumberjacks joined him in the joke as Eugene watched a Turbo-Prop make its final approach to Portland International.
"Come on, Mr. Pomerleau, you're not going to convince me that this is all just a filming of one of King's new movies. Channel 13's audience deserves to know what's really going on in Portland. What about the giant piles of Spam™ found throughout the city."
The microphone was thrust into Eugene's face. Elmer, he hated reporters. He wondered if he could scare off these devilbunnies if he threatened to sick the press on 'em.
"It's approaching Halloween. You know how kids are. Pumpkins are scarce. The police have cracked-down on egg sales to minors. They've apparently turned to something else just as messing. Look, I've got work to get done for tonight's filming."
He tried to gently push around the reporter, but she blocked him.
"I know you're holding something back, Mr. Pomerleau. We got reports from all over the Old Port about last night. Reports about large rabbits and men wielding fire axes. I want the truth."
Eugene paused for a moment. "You want the truth? I'll give you the truth." He looked straight into the camera and spoke in a serious tone.
"Portland is being invaded by cute and cuddly looking rabbits. Ferocious, killer rabbits bent on subverting mankind. They will dine upon our toes and turn the rest of our bodies into Spam™ unless we send them back to where they came from. As the local leader of the Fudd resistance force, that's what I'm trying to do, coordinate the resistance to these Fluffy Demons™ and repel them before they take over the whole city. We shall fight them with Moxie™ and fire axes while they fight with tooth and claw and we shall drive'em out of our city!"
The reporter looked at Eugene strangely, like he was an escapee from AMHI (Augusta Mental Health Institute). "O.K." She turned to the cameraman. "Joe, let's leave these movie folks alone."
As they walked off, Eugene called-out after them. "Hey! Release date for King's Devilbunnies is next Easter. Don't forget to mention the release date in your report!"
Eugene turned back to his work and picked-up the phone.
"Boothbay Hahbah Fish Co-op, Beht speaking."
"Ayuh, I want evehy lobstah you have on hand."
"I'm sorry. Did you say evehy lobstah? Do you realize we have 2,000 lobstahs in stock?"
"That's excellent. Yes, I want all of them. Now heeya's how I'm going to pay for them and how they will be picked-up....."
Some time later, Bert hung-up the phone. "Hey Mabel! Tell the boys, we'ah gonna have a good Christmas this yeaya!"
About four that afternoon, a Maine Forest Service helicopter landed on Boothbay's largest pier. A brief-case was exchanged between the pilot and Bert. Bert's fellow lobstermen began filling a large canvas bucket suspended off the side of the pier with lobsters with no rubber bands on the claws. Bert took the pilot aside.
"You wouldn't happen to know what them city folks need with so many lobstahs?"
"It's for the filming crew of that new King movie being filmed in Portland. It's about killah rabbits. Sorta like a King version of 'Night of the Lepus'."
"Daugh, you don't say?"
They finished filling the bucket just before sunset and the pilot lifted his load into the air soon after that and turned the helicopter west southwest towards Portland.
18 hours after the initial invasion of Portland....
Steve Blake was finding it harder than usual to fit-in in his alter ego, BrownPaw. His attack on the BunnyMarine had done its job. He had been approached and patted on the back by at least 20 Maine militia buns for speaking-out what they had all felt. This in turn had allowed BrownPaw to plant more resentment between the native buns and those "From Away" as the BunnyMarines were referred to as. Unfortunately, all this attention made it difficult for him to get any rest. He finally gave-up and volunteered for a perimeter patrol.
There had to be close to 100 buns holding-up for the day here at the Cumberland County Civic Center. The owners of the Portland Pirates was a symp who "gladly" put the buns up there. BrownPaw should have suspected it long ago--the Pirates' mascot was an extremely cute looking ice skating parot, Polly of course, and the Pirates were a farm team for the Capitals of bunny-controlled, Washington, DC. The perimeter patrol gave BrownPaw the breather he needed. If Eugene could assemble enough Fudds here before dark, they could score a significant victory, or possibly defeat. He decided he would have to wait at least until after sunset before attempting radio contact, for he feared that he may still be under suspicion by this LT Grouper. Fortunately, he didn't have to blow his cover, since no Fudds discovered the hideout during his patrol.
The sun was now setting and it was time for the buns to resume their attacks against the Fudds. BrownPaw was sent-off with a mixed contingent of 19 other buns, 9 militia and 10 BunnyMarine. Their objective was to push down Forrest Avenue at least as far as I-295 and further if the Fudds showed little resistance. BrownPaw was determined that this was one mission that would fail.
They finished filling the bucket just before sunset and the pilot lifted his load into the air soon after that and turned the helicopter west southwest towards Portland.
The Salmon Patty was on schedule. The rendezvous with Commander Cod off Biddeford Pool went smoothly. Cod's transports were standing by if needed. Barracuda had received word of the continent-wide power failure and knew he had to step-up the time line of the Portland campaign so that his buns could be reassigned to various warrens as temporary communication relays. They were just now steaming into Casco Bay and nearing firing range. All three Spamapults were primed, loaded and ready to fire.
(WHOOP, WHOOP, WHOOP, WHOOP....)
In the crow's nest, Rating Fluke was the first to hear and spot the blinking running lights of the helicopter. He didn't hesitate to sound the alert.
(THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP....) "GENERAL QUARTERS, GENERAL QUARTERS....ALL BUNS TO BATTLE STATIONS."
"What do ye see, Rating?"
"We have a helicopter coming up our stern, sir! She's carrying a large bucket below and I spotted some liquid slosh out o' it, sir!"
"Prepare ye self accordingly, Rating!" Barracuda replied. "All buns prepare for liquid weapons attack! Gunnery Two bring yer Spamapult to bare and fire when ready! Gunnery One and Three hold yer fire until after she passes!"
The whir of the helicopter got louder as it bore down on the vessel. Spamapult Two fired. Spam flew through the air and grazed the target, but the helicopter pilot somehow was able to keep his craft on course and dropped his load over the Patty. 2,000 angry, disturbed lobsters (and some saltwater) rained down upon the Salmon Patty.
Lobster claws snapped shut on whatever they touched--ears, paws, tails, or other body parts. The crustacean attack produced utter chaos among Barracuda's crew as buns lashed about in blind panic to get the snapping, painful lobsters off them. In their panic, the buns of Spamapult One accidentally fired their Spamapult straight-up. The spam fell back upon the Spamapult, killing the two gunnery buns and gumming-up the Spamapult.
The gunnery buns on Spamapult Three kept diciplined a little better and were able to fire their Spamapult at the helicopter before they too began to swat-off the lobsters that had attached themselves to various body parts. The Spam™ flew through the air and grazed the rotor of the helicopter. The majority of the Spam projectile flew on towards Portland as the helicopter went down.
*****Bunnystumper™ Local Widebeam*****
"May day, may day. This is pilot LaBlanc. Mission successful, but I'm going down.
You owe me one, Pomer...
*****End Carrier*****
The helicopter splashed into Casco Bay.
It took nearly twenty minutes for Barracuda to get his crew under control. He had to remove several lobsters from his own body. The worse wound was the loss of the tip of his right ear. Barracuda was infuriated.
(STOMP!) "No prisoner exchanges! Any Fudds we capture are going to walk the plank for this!" (STOMP!) "When we capture the Fudd leaders, I will personally rip their hearts-out and eat them in front o' them!" (STOMP!) Barracuda would have gone on and on cursing had he not noticed the Spam splattered mess that use to be Spamapult One and was now beginning to balloon. "All buns take cov...."
(KABOOM!) The Spam™ coated Spamapult exploded, sending steaming hot Spam™ in all directions. The Spam had apparently gummed-up the steam escape vents for its piston, causing the explosion, but this would not be learned until later that night after the investigation. The explosion also killed another three buns and injured ten others, not counting all the injuries due to the lobsters.
The Maine militia buns BrownPaw was marching with were becoming more disgruntled about the BunnyMarines by the moment. The seeds of distrust BrownPaw had planted earlier were began to come to fruition.
They all could hear the roar as it became louder. Several of the BunnyMarines had no clue what it was, but the Maine buns recognized the sound. "Take cover, we can ambush them," one of the Maine buns cried out.
*Only if they didn't know you were coming, fluffers,* BrownPaw thought to himself.
"Very well, in the bushes along the side of the road, now!" the BunnyMarine in charge replied.
The roar was now deafening as two metal monstrosities crested the hill.
"They're skidders, sir! We've got to clear out of here!" (panicfluff) one of the Maine buns hollered over the comm link to the buns across the way.
"Belay that order, I'm in charge, we stay and ambush them!" (STOMP!) the BunnyMarine yelled back.
The two skidders moved down the road towards their location. Each hauled a 10 foot long, 2 foot wide log in the metal claw behind them. Rather than drive between the bushes, the two machines split-up and drove over the bushes. Bunnies fled from their cover in panic as each skidder swung it's log around quickly, bashing several devilbunnies to oblivion.
The BunnyMarine in charge tried to keep his troops under control. The Maine Buns had taken the brunt of the initial attack, while the Marines held their ground as best as they could. Even over the noise of the skidders, they could here the Fudd battle cry.
****BUNIX Tightbeam to theSalmon Patty*****
This is Ltjg Sardine, we could use some Spam™ cover fire at these coordinates! We are under heavy Fudd resistance. I estimate that we lost 10 Maine buns and one Marine in the initial attack....
*****End Carrier******
Sardine cut the message short as he dodged the axe of the largest Fudd he had ever seen. The monkey must have been 6 foot 7 inches in height. His double bladed axe was also the largest he'd ever seen. The Fudd was dressed like out of the old Monty Python skit, "The Lumberjack Song" and he spoke with a terrible accent. And he was unusually fast for a Fudd of his size.
"So you eese the bunNIES that dare to atTACK our PORT? You 'ave to GET through ME," pound chest between swings, "Jean St PIERRE and my boys, the Maine LumBERjack Fudds, first, bunNY."
WARNING: The following has been rated [pig-13] due to its violent content. The following may not be suitable for all kits and kids to watch. Parental discretion is advised.
*****Bunnystumper Local Widebeam*****
"May day, may day. This is pilot LeBlanc. Mission successful, but I'm going down. You owe me one, Pomer...
*****End Carrier*****
"LeBlanc! Come in!....damn." Eugene switched frequencies. "I want two search boats out there now!" He looked towards Casco Bay in time to see an explosion about a half-mile out, silhouetting the boat the explosion emanated from.
In the waters of Casco Bay, LeBlanc treaded water. He couldn't see much for the moon, what little there was of it, was now blocked by some clouds. He heard the splashes nearby but could do little to defend himself. He was hauled unceremoniously into a dingy pawed by 4 sailorbuns who bound and gagged him quickly.
(deviousfluff) "Well landlubber monkey, our Commodore would like to see you." The sailorbuns began rowing back towards the Salmon Patty.
Fifteen minutes later, LeBlanc found himself surrounded by devilbunnies on the deck of a converted fishing vessel, the Salmon Patty. There were still some loose lobsters on the deck from his bombing mission. A grizzled bun hobbled over towards him and scowled in his face and removed his gag.
"Ye be the landlubber that do this?"
LeBlanc nodded proudly, realizing he was more than likely about to die. "Yes, and I see the mission will be considahed a success from the looks of the mess in the bow."
"ARG! Ye be brave fer a monkey. Ye be a walkin' the plank fer this. O'course I could make it easier for ye if ye were to provide us with information."
"What sort of information, fluffah."
Barracuda motioned for two of his stronger buns to hold the Fudd down. "You know what I want. Where are the Fudds hiding in Portland? What are their strengths, etc."
"I don't know what you'ah talking about."
Barracuda bit-off one of the Fudd's toes and crunched it noisily as the Fudd yelped. He had to give the monkey credit, most Fudds would have howled for several minutes over the pain.
"Now do ye remember?"
LeBlanc ground his teeth to keep himself under control. "You can dine on the other nine toes and I still won't know a thing."
"So be it, Fudd."
Another four noisily munched toes later and Barracuda still got no where. He sliced the other five off with his cutlass.
"Extend the plank!"
A couple of sailor buns opened a cargo hatch while two others extended a plank over the now open cargo hatch. Below was a metal funnel, not much unlike a giant hopper for a meat grinder.
"Last chance Fudd." Barracuda signalled for the Spam-o-Matic™ to be started-up. LeBlanc began to sweat. The bun had said walk the plank, nothing about being spammed.
"I thought you said I'd walk the plank!"
(deviousfluff) "Oh, you are about to walk the plank, landlubber. It's just that our plank dumps you into our spamming machine rather than the deep blue sea. In about 10 minutes, we'll fire your remains from one o' our Spamapults back to your land lubbah Fudd friends in Portland. Now do ye care to divulge any information?" Barracuda leaned on his cutlass.
"All right. SGT Eugene Pomerleau is not in charge of the campaign to remove bunny influence from Maine."
(nonbelieffluff and scowl) "Then who is?!"
"I not sure of his name. I think it's Blake, Major Blake. I do know he's an officer from LuFI."
"LuFI!?" Barracuda stalked-off a moment. If only it weren't for the blackout, he could check into this Blake of LuFI. No matter. He turned to the sailorbun next to him. "Fetch me 5 cc's of that serume developed by Bovet out to Stillwarren, we be a needin' it tonight."
The bun returned less than 30 seconds later. Barracuda jabbed it into LeBlanc's arm in depressed the syringe.
"What the hell!" LeBlanc began to see things in a blurred light. Barracuda waved his paw in front of LeBlanc's eyes to ensure the drug was taking proper effect.
"I lost a brother at Lubbock last year. If LuFI be involved, we give no quarter." Barracuda shoved LeBlanc out onto the plank and sliced the ropes that bound his hands with his cutlass. "The drug we've pumped into you was tested in Lubbock before LuFI destroyed our warren there. It's effects will soon make itself known to ye."
Barracuda jabbed LeBlanc in the back and he moved down the plank. LeBlanc was jabbed a second time and he fell-off the plank. Human screams of agony echoed-up from the Spam-o-Matic™ below mixed with the sound of grinding bones. Barracuda was splattered with human blood. The screams went on much longer than they should of and then cut-off suddenly. One hand still flailed spasmaticly in the hopper.
"Shut her down. I want that hand in tact to send the Fudds a message. Load that Spam™ into Spamapult Two and place that hand on top o' it."
***BUNIX Tightbeam to theSalmon Patty*****
This is LtjgSardine, we could use some Spam™ cover fire at these coordinates! We are under heavy Fudd resistance. I estimate that we lost 10 Maine buns and one Marine in the initial attack....
*****End Carrier******
"Perfect timing," Barracuda muttered under his breath. "Both Spamapults come to bear on Sardine's coordinates and fire!" (STOMP!) "Let's teach those landlubbers a lesson!"
Two loads of spam, one very fresh hurled towards Portland.
"So you eese the bunNIES that dare to atTACK our PORT? You 'ave to GET through ME," pound chest between swings, "Jean St. PIERRE and my boys, the Maine LumBERjack Fudds, first, bunNY."
Sardine battled the huge Fudd for what seemed like eternity but in reality was only 2 minutes when his ears picked-up the sweet sound of Spam falling.
Twin SSSPPPLLLOOOCH's echoed from the two Spam™ bombs as they splattered against both skidders, flipping them and trapping their drivers within. The distraction gave Sardine the time needed to rip Jean's left forearm open, but he got kicked clear before he could deliver the finishing blow as fresh reinforcements arrived. Despite the Spam™ bombardment (Where in Inle was the third bomb?) the Fudds were still holding their ground and actually gaining ground. Sardine got up to resume the attack when he heard the tell-tale roar of at least two more skidders coming. He looked around him. His buns were slowly loosing ground. There were at least 3 more dead and 2 wounded. He was now outnumbered by the Fudd reinforcements. He had little choice.
"Buns fall back!" The devilbunnies fled back the way they came.
The lumberjack Fudds began to pursue until Jean stopped them. "Non, we 'AVE woundED and trapPED to deal with first. Then we deal with the bunNIES."
The Fudds began to dig through the gooey Spam™ to rescue their comrades within the toppled skidders and one of them backed-up when he discovered the severed hand.
Sardine's group fell back half-a-mile and slowed down and regrouped when they noticed the Fudds weren't following them. He took a quick head count. He had lost 5 marines and 15 militia buns in the attack. Another 10 militia and 3 marines were injured and would not be able to fight if called upon. Sardine's company was now down to 12 marines and 15 militia buns. One of the militia buns, BrownPaw, hopped towards Sardine purposefully.
"What is it, Private?" (commandfluff)
(STOMP!) "We're not taking orders from you out of staters any longer! It's your fault that so many died in that attack. One of our own warned you about the skidders and you chose to ignore him." (STOMP!) "Now, he's dead along with many of our comrades!" (STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!) "I know what your leaders are up to. We were 'invited' along in this campaign to be used as cannon fodder. While we take the brunt of the Fudd-scum attacks, you and your fellow marines get all the glory." (STOMP!)
Many "Here, here!" 's echoed from the surviving Maine buns.
BrownPaw, encouraged, continued. "Matter of fact, I'm beginning to wonder who the real enemy is here. We've had no trouble with the local Fudds until recently, when one Admiral Marlin declared a celebration over the resignation of their leader and declared the Fudds all but defeated! If you marines weren't such braggarts, none of our warrens would be..."
WHACK! Sardine slammed BrownPaw in the muzzle. BrownPaw fell back and got up. He rubbed his muzzle and glared at Sardine.
"Like to settle it now, scow," Sardine uttered under his breath.
BrownPaw leaped at Sardine. The rest of the Maine buns followed suit against the rest of the BunnyMarines. Sardine and BrownPaw went at each other blow for blow for several minutes before BrownPaw knocked Sardine silly, enabling BrownPaw to get his paws on the LTjg's throat and squeeze. *POP*! The head sailed unnoticed in the chaotic battle that surrounded them. BrownPaw then allowed a marine to give him a bloody muzzle and to throw him clear of the battle scene and he ducked behind some bushes and watched the chaos and radioed in.
***Bunnystumper Tightbeam to SGT Pomerleau***
Mission accomplished, returning to base. Blake out.
*****End Carrier*****
BrownPaw, aka Major Steve Blake, carefully made his way from the carnage behind him as his wounds healed. He never noticed the Maine bun who had never leaped into the fight and was now discreetly following him.
"Are you sure?"
"Oui, SerGEANT, sis hand, she belonged to LeBLANC. The watch I gave to HIM is the watch FOUND in the mess."
"Great El'mah, thank you Corporeal, keep me informed."
"We may be disabled for the moMENT, SGT, but St. Pierre and the LumBERjack Fudds are not out. Those bunNIES will pay for this. Cprl St. Pierre out."
Eugene sat back. These buns weren't fooling around. They had captured and spammed LeBlanc. Eugene shuddered as memories of that tape captured in Lubbock soon after the buns were driven out of the city came back to him. Images of that spamming on film were still vivid in his mind. It wasn't the way for anyone to go, Fudd or in the case of the film, a symp who had failed the buns. He heard rustling in the bushes behind him. He picked-up his axe and quietly got-up out of his seat in the tent and faced the noise. A largish brown buck with a bit of blood matting his fur hopped forward.
"Report, SGT!"
Eugene stood at attention for Major Blake and saluted. "The Lumberjack Fudds will be delayed for at least another hour while tending to wounded and getting those trapped in the spammed skidders out. The two skidders hit will be out of commission for at least 2 days. I wish I could report more success elsewhere, but we are accomplishing nothing on the northside. The buns at that end fight fanatically and are holding their ground. LeBlanc succeeded in his bombing run on the bunny boat out there, but was in turn shot-down, captured, and spammed. His remains are gumming-up one of those skidders."
"At ease, SGT. We are making some headway at our end, Gene..." Blake filled Gene in on what he had been up to.
In the bushes nearby, a lone buck carefully crept up towards the tent. He had seen BrownPaw enter and could now hear him conversing with somebun or one. He crept around in the bushes until he could see into the tent. His eyes bulged at what he saw and he found it difficult not to bolt-out and kill the traitor. BrownPaw was talking to a Fudd and not just any Fudd, but the Fudd in charge of the whole campaign. The Fudd who had destroyed or ordered destroyed all the Maine Warrens. The one who had threatened to kill civilianbuns if they didn't leave Maine, Eugene Pomerleau. He had to get reinforcements. More importantly, he had to notify his superiors about his discovery.
Meanwhile, BrownPaw was finishing his story with the Fudd.
"....and then I leaped at this Sardine and the others all leaped in. When I left after *POP*ping that fluff-er, the marines and the regular militia where going at each others throats and holding nothing back. I want you to gather as many men as possible so we can finish that group off while they are still weak."
"Understood, Steve. Cprl, get in here!"
A lanky Fudd ran into the tent, stopped and saluted to both Fudd and bun.
"Crpl, Cormeaux, I want you to gather 20 Fudds quickly, Major Blake has an assignment for you."
"Yes, sir!" the corporeal left as quickly as he came.
*Major?!* (disbelieffluff) *BrownPaw isn't only a traitor, he holds rank above this Fudd?* The bucks eyes bulged as he put it all together. He had to radio-in what he had seen even at risk of being captured. He carefully made his way back into the bushes a way and activated his comm link.
***BUNIX Tightbeam to the Salmon Patty*****
This is Private Crabapple of the Maine militia. I have seen something hard to believe but true. Private BrownPaw is a traitor to his own race and works for the Fudds. BrownPaw is an alias and the Fudds call him Major Steve Blake. (incredulousfluff) Could a devilbunny traitor actually command this mission that has slaughtered so many bunnies? (STOMP!)
The Fudd's HQ is currently approximately 300 feet southwest of my current location. I will stick to this area as long as I can to report more.
Private Crabapple, out.
*****End Carrier*****
No sooner had Crabapple ended the transmission then two paws gripped his throat and he heard a familiar voice in his ear.
"So, Crabapple, what did you tell them about me?" (deviouscuriousfluff) "Everything?"
Crabapple growled the best he could. "What did you expect me to do, traitorbun?" Crabapple struggled and somehow broke free of Steve's grip. He turned to face Steve. "You know what they do to traitors, Brown-Paw, or should I say 'Major' Steve Blake? They kill you if you're lucky. Otherwise, its to the labs with you."
(fakeshiverfluff) "They have to capture me first, fluffer. They may know who I am now, but that doesn't mean I can't assume another identity at another time and location." (deviousfluff) "And then I can plant dissension anew." He leaped at Crabapple.
***BUNIX Tightbeam to the Salmon Patty*****
This is Private Crabapple of the Maine militia. I have seen something hard to believe but true. Private BrownPaw is a traitor to his own race and works for the Fudds. BrownPaw is an alias and the Fudds call him Major Steve Blake. (incredulousfluff) Could a devilbunny traitor actually command this >mission that has slaughtered so many bunnies? (STOMP!)
The Fudd's HQ is currently approximately 300 feet southwest of my current location. I will stick to this area as long as I can to report more.
Private Crabapple, out.
*****End Carrier*****
"Understood, Private...private?" (STOMP!) "Gunnery Two aim for the coordinates that Crabapple specified and fire when ready!"
Thirty seconds later Spamapult Two fired another load of Spam™ towards Portland.
(Very loud boat horn blast) Several buns clutch at their ears.
(Feminine voice in very business-like tone) "Unidentified vessel, this is Captain LeClaire of the Coast Guard Cutter Joshua stand too and prepared to be boarded!"
A spot light appears from the Coast Guard ship off the Patty's port side.
"Who in Inle's Wrath notified them about us!" (STOMP!) "We'll show those sea monkeys what BunnyMarines are made of!"
Barracuda turned to several of his crew members. "You, you, you, and you. Prepare to go over the side and initiate Operation Davy Jones. Gunnery crews 4 through 9, prepare your cannons to repel attack!"
Barracuda thanked Inle he had had the sense to modify this vessel to also be equipped with a dozen Spamcannons bellow the main deck, six to port and six to starboard. He smiled as he heard the cannon coverings removed and the cannons being wheeled into place.
Captain LeClaire didn't know what to make of the unidentified call about smugglers this close to Port-land Harbor, but they were honored bound to follow through on every call. She was somewhat surprised to find a ship out here with no markings. At the same time she and her crew didn't know what to make of what they saw--rabbits hopping about on the deck of this fishing vessel. That's when she saw the cannon ports open.
"SOUND GENERAL QUARTERS!!! Bring all guns to bear and prepare to fire! Radio in to base for back-up!" *I can't believe this. We're going to fight a bunch of rabbits!* she added as a personal thought
"Forward and aft guns ready, Captain!"
LeClaire got on the loudspeaker again. "Unidentified vessel, this is your last warning!"
Barracuda laughed and replied on his own speaker. "Last chance?! It be ye's last chance to live, sea monkeys!"
"Fire!" he added after killing the speaker.
Six Spamcannons fired as one at the Joshua. Chaos broke-out on the vessel as the crew was splattered with the gooey mess and no one's weapons would work, not to mention that everyone was now pinned into place by the gooey Spam™ attack. LeClaire could do nothing for her crew for she was now stuck to the side of the forward cabin. She could easily see the rabbits if that was what they were on their vessel laughing at her and her crew.
CHINK, CHINK, CHINK...what was that sound? A pair of rabbit ears appeared over the railing followed by a second, third and forth pairs. As one, four rabbits in strange fatigues sprang onto LeClaire's boat. They inspected the boat and gummed-up crew.
"No need to sink her, Commodore. She's in very good shape and would make a lovely addition to the fleet. And," the head bun approached LeClaire and rubbed her chin much to her anger. "the captain is a fine lookin' lass. Bet she'd make a wonderful conversion." (deviousfluff**rub LeClaire's leg)
"Underst..."
"INCOMING VESSELS!" yelled the bun in the Patty's crow's nest. "BOTH FROM STERN AND THE BOW. TWO MORE CUTTERS!"
"I want you four over the side now and take care of the vessel astern, we'll handle the one approaching from the bow!" Barracuda yelled to the boarding party. The four leapt from the Joshua into the water.
"This is Captain Grenier of the United States Coast Guard Cutter Chamberlain. You are accused of smuggling and attacking a Coast Guard Vessel. Stand too and prepare to be boarded!"
"More fluffing sea monkeys! Get Grouper on the radio. We'll need 20 of his buns to deal with these lubbers." Barracuda ducked as both Cutters opened fire and machine gunfire raked the Patty's deck.
(STOMP!) "Evasive plan Beta and return fire!"
For the next hour, no Spamapult shots fell onto Portland.
Crabapple growled the best he could. "What did you expect me to do, traitorbun?" Crabapple struggled and somehow broke free of Steve's grip. He turned to face Steve. "You know what they do to traitors, BrownPaw, or should I say 'Major' Steve Blake? They kill you if you're lucky. Otherwise, its to the labs with you."
(fakeshiverfluff) "They have to capture me first, fluffer. They may know who I am now, but that doesn't mean I can't assume another identity at another time and location." (deviousfluff) "And then I can plant dissension anew." He leaped at Crabapple.
Crabapple was ready for Steve and threw him aside hard, knocking the wind out of him. (angerfluff) "You will pay for every one of the deaths you have caused, traitor. And you will pay slowly."
Steve didn't move. Crashing of underbrush erupted as Eugene burst on to the scene. He held his axe at the ready. Several other Fudds appeared from out of the shrubbery. Eugene stepped forward to deal with the devilbunny.
"As you were, Sergeant!" (STOMP!) "This is my battle," Steve cried-out as he got up to resume his fight with Crabapple. "What makes you think that you can defeat me, fluffer?" Steve growled as an afterthought.
"Oh, I don't think, I know I will defeat you, traitor." Both buns leaped at each other and dealt blows upon each other. Both landed the worse for wear.
"Great Elmer!" one of the Fudds cried and pointed to Crabapple. Everyone could see it now. Crabapple was healing rapidly much like Steve.
"See traitor, we all carry secrets." (deviousfluff) Crabapple eyed Steve and noted he too was healing. "I don't suppose you know an.." He leaped again and finished the sentence in mid-leap. "Aldin Busheytail?"
Both buns attacked each other again. Steve bit into Crabapple's left ear and ripped the tip off. Crabapple gashed Steve's chest in the meantime. Eugene ordered the rest of the Fudds to back-up and give Steve more room. The two buns continued lashing-out at one another for another 30 seconds, before backing off and circling again.
"How would you know of an Aldin Busheytail?" Steve asked.
"Well, why not answer your question, after all you are about to die and the rest of this group will be defeated shortly. 24 of us escaped Namakata Labs this past spring before some crazy squirrel, Aldin Busheytail, attacked and destroyed it. The fool squirrel spared our lives. He shall pay for his mistake in time."
Crabapple leaped again. Steve knocked him aside. "I do know of Aldin Busheytail. Good friend of mine." Crabapple leaped again. This time Steve fell back and used his rear legs to propel Crabapple over him while digging his claws into Crabapple's underside. "And I learned that move from him."
Crabapple landed in a heap with his chest ripped open and panted. He rolled over and held the wound closed. Steve waited for him.
"Finish him off!" several Fudds yelled.
Steve glared at them. "To attack him while he's weak would be to stoop to his level. Besides, " (deviousfluff) "I'm enjoying my time toying with this one."
Crabapple growled in anger and leaped again at Steve, lashing-out, leaving a gaping wound on the left side of his muzzle. Crapapple received a few more injureis also. Both buns circled each other again, sizing each other for weaknesses.
(short wistle.... SSSSPPPPLLLLOOOOOOCCCHHH!!!)
Several of the Fudds were distracted as the command tent not far behind them was crushed under 150 pounds of Spam™. Crabapple used the distraction to remove the throat of one of the Fudds before Steve could react, by leaping after Crabapple. Crabapple was ready for the pro-Fudd devilbunny and caught him by the throat.
"Well, traitor, how's it feel to about to die?" (victoryfluff)
Crabapple squeezed, shutting-off Steve's airway. Steve struggled. Eugene took aim with his rifle, awaiting a clear shot. Crabapple shook Steve violently. Crabapple grinned as he heard Steve's neck snap and dropped Steve's now still body.
BLAM! Eugene fired the 30 au 06 silver-tipped shell at pointblank range at the devilbunny. It hit him in the head and the bullet shattered into shrapnel within the rabbit's skull. (Silver bullets are nasty for this very reason.) Crabapple was dead before his head hit the ground. Eugene moved forward and *POP*ped the bun's head for insurance before examining Steve. Steve was breathing shallowly.
"You! Get the medic. The rest of you, no more holding back. It's now all or nothing. Gather all the Fudds you can and be prepared to move-out in 2 minutes!"
A medical team arrived and placed the bun on a stretcher. The examiner shook his head in doubt on the Major's chances of survival as he attached a respirator to the bun.
Eugene glared in anger at the aftermath and looked to his men and women. *This one's for you, Steve,* he thought as he yelled-out, "MOVE OUT!"
(surefluff) "I saw the landlubber monkeys run in there!" The BunnyMarine Rating pointed to a small warehouse near the B & M Baked Bean Plant.
"Alright, buns, you know what to do."
The attack group of 8 buns carefully crept-up to the only visible door on this side of the warehouse. The leader motioned for three to make their way around back. Once they radioed that they were in position, the five in front stormed the door.
The door crashed with ease and they found them-selves in an empty warehouse...except for the huge Blue Buick Electra that was now speeding towards the rear door and the 6 inch by 6 inch (15 cm) transformer sitting by itself on the floor. There was a note attached it:
As the lead bunny read the note, an old 1960's model Philco console television fell from the rafters onto the lead bunny and the transformer.
WWWOOOOOOFFF!!!!!
The picture tube imploded as the vacuum within was released, instantly killing the lead bunny. 150+ decibels of noise reverberated off the walls of the warehouse. The other four buns fell to the ground clutching their ears and screamed in pain as their armor failed to completely muffle the noise. The windows in the building rattled as the 1978 Buick sped on towards the rear exit.
The exit which now had three lapins blocking it. Chris grinned evilly. Nobunny was going to stop 7000 lbs (3173 kg) of steel once it got moving. He pushed the accelerator to the floor and blared his horn.
The buns blocking the doorway were far enough from the tv to avoid pain, but they were no fools when it came to a car, big monstrous, huge car barreling down upon them. Two leaped aside, but the third froze in terror at the sound of its horn. It wasn't a car horn, but a train horn...just like the one on the train that had claimed his parents. By the time he snapped-out of the flashback, it was too late.
The former bun didn't even put a dent into the grill of the Buick as Chris and Mike sped-out of the warehouse and onto the streets of Portland.
*****BunnyStumper™ Tightbeam to Chris Pomerleau*****
Hate to spoil your fun, brother, but I could use your and Mike's help. Steve is down for who knows how long. Our men can't hold-out much longer so we are going to have to make a massive attack on Forest Avenue near the Civic Center, despite being outnumber three to one. I need you and your toys there in five minutes if at all possible, preferably sooner.
Gene
*****End Tightbeam*****
Mike replied for Chris confirming the message. Chris sped south towards Forrest Avenue with buns on their backside.
There must have been 90...no 110...no at least 120 devilbunnies before them. But Eugene was proud of his men, despite the fact that they were slowly loosing ground to the fluffers. Every inch the fluffers gained was paid for in blood. He watched the last two skidders wreck havoc before each in turn was defeated....the first with two up-close Spam-grenades and the later when a bunny got close enough to pour Snapple into the gas tank before its head was blown-off by the shotgun wielding driver of the skidder, who in turn perished soon after his metal monster stalled.
"We can't hold this position, sergeant!"
"I know, keep falling back! All troops keep falling back down Forrest. And make sure you wear your head sets at all times!"
The remains of the Maine Fudd Volunteers and the Lumberjack Fudds slowly withdrew down Forrest Avenue, their numbers ever decreasing with a Fluffy Wall of Death™ fighting them all the way.
*****BunnyStumper™ Tightbeam to Chris Pomerleau*****
Hate to spoil your fun, brother, but I could use your and Mike's help. Steve is down for who knows how long. Our men can't hold out much longer so we are going to have to make a massive attack on Forest Avenue near the Civic Center, despite being out-number three to one. I need you and your toys there in five minutes if at all possible, preferably sooner.
Gene
*****End Tightbeam*****
Two minutes later, Chris, screeched to a halt at another warehouse long enough for Mike to bail-out and jump into another "borrowed" bread truck (you'd be amazed at what these things can haul). The mini convoy then sped towards Forrest Avenue.
They didn't have long to set-up when they arrived at Forrest and State Street. Mike opened the back of the truck and dropped three rolls of what looked like soda cans, but turned out to be large (33,000 uF or so) capacitors strung together. Several Fudds aided in unrolling these as Mike unloaded the gas powered generators and began to hook the capacitors up.
"Remember, once I give 'em the juice, don't touch 'em!" Mike yelled into his headset. "And once the 'concert' starts, get behind them!"
In the meantime Chris was preparing to give the concert of his life. He had found an old, beat-up and very out of tune piano at the old Munjoy Hill School several days before the Fluffers invaded and was about to put it to good use. Several months earlier, he had passed-up on a job offer to be the piano player at Will's for Chris could not become neutral... not after what the devilbunnies had done to him and his family. Chris was an excellent piano player, but considering the shape the piano he was going to use this evening, it wouldn't matter if he could play like Mozart, it was going to sound horrible.
He was now hooking up the 4 microphones that were wired into the cabinet next to the sounding board. These were piped into an ancient 1960's Marshall Amp he picked-up somewhere down to central MA, which in turn was hooked into the nearby abandoned (or so he hoped it had been) old weather radar dish. He had spent two days modifying the 10 foot dish to send out sound waves rather than microwaves. Every Fudd had a headset on to protect themselves from Chris' upcoming performance. Everything was in place as he could hear the hacking and slashing coming down the hill from the Civic Center.
Eugene could see I-295 now. Fortunately, there would be no civilians on the road this night, thanks to detour signs put-up earlier in the day for "filming".
"We're ready, Gene," he heard over the headphones.
"Alright, men! Full retreat, and remember don't touch the cylinders on the ground!"
The Fudds broke into a run for the last line of defense set-up behind them. The lead devilbunnies gave a cheer and pursued with relish before their commanders could order them otherwise. Fudds leaped over the row upon row of "aluminum cans". The lead devilbunnies weren't so fortunate. As they made contact with the capacitors, 75 volts DC (like sticking your tongue in a 220 volt AC outlet) surged through each bunny, causing them to spontaneously combust.
As the first wave of devilbunnies fried and the next few waves regrouped, Chris began playing. Mozart at first. Didn't matter what he played, for the piano was way out of tune. And amplified through the radar dish, it was worse then a Mormon Tabernacle Choir concert live in any big stadium. A Fudd who had forgot to put his headphones on dropped to his knees in pain at the decibel level of uncuteness emanating from the impromptu concert. The few remaining unarmored Maine Militia Buns dropped to the ground clutching their heads as blood dripped from their soon lifeless bodies. Even the BunnyMarines had problems ignoring the off-key music that they could still hear despite the muffling their armor could provide.
In all the chaos, no one/bun noticed a lone bun in worn bunarmor back-up from the carnage. *The traitor was right....the BunnyMarines would lead us to slaughter. Never, never again shall we trust buns From Away to deal with our problems. Let the Bunny-Marines kill themselves off.* LT CrimsonPaw ducked into some bushes and left the carnage behind him.
By now the Fudds had regrouped behind the row upon row of capacitors. Chris was now murdering Johann Sebastian Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. LT's Grouper and Catfish ordered their buns to attack. The line of capacitors weren't that wide. Buns leaped over and towards the Fudds. Fudds fell backwards as claws and sharp teeth did their work. Buns also fell back, and unfortunately for them, on to the capacitors, only to quickly flame up.
Realizing that Bach wasn't going to be enough, Chris switched to Tchaikovsky, 1812 Overture to be exact. "Crank the juice all the way up, Mike!" he yelled into his headset.
"But that'll blow'em!"
"Precisely!"
A high pitched whine began to come from the capacitors. Chris skipped over most of the 1812 Overture and on to the important portion, the portion that called for live artillery fire. Capacitors overheating began to fire-off in rapid succession as they could no longer handle the electrical demands placed onto them, igniting the oils within and shooting-out 10 foot flames.
LT's Grouper and Catfish watched in shock as their frontlines became "Wabbit Flambe".
**EMERGENCY TIGHTBEAM TO COMMODORE BARRACUDA** Sir! we are experiencing heavy Fudd resistance and need immediate Spamapult cover fire!
(static)
**END TIGHTBEAM**
"Well!"
"We've lost contact with the Salmon Patty!"
"Then we have no choice, sound retreat!"
The buns fell back. The Fudds let-up a cheer and gave chase and did not stop until the Portland Docks, watching the buns swim for it. No one paid attention to Chris' grand finale as the piano fell apart, the amp blew, and the radar dish began to smoke all at once.
Barracuda's buns let-up a cheer as the Coast Guard Cutter behind them began to sink. Unfortunately, he couldn't see the same happen to the Joshua nor the Chamberlain, which were now pulling away from the Patty with the former being towed by the latter. Barracuda wouldn't normally let the land lubbers live, but his ship wasn't in that great shape. Bullet strafing had taken its toll as both the remaining Spamapults were now out of commission for at least 24 hours with holes in their steam pipes. Furthermore, nearly 20 of his crew were killed or injured in the attack. He could finish off the monkeys another night.
A young buck from meteorology hopped up to him and handed him the latest forecast. Inle must have been displeased. They had a classic Nor'easter approaching.
"Rating! Tell the shore parties to batten down the hatches and we'll be back in two days."
(nervousfluff) "Sir, we've just received word from shore. LT Grouper and LT Catfish have been forced to retreat."
(STOMP!) "What!"
Two hours later in the Captain's quarters aboard the Salmon Patty.
(STOMP!) "You had the city within your paws and you let a bunch of monkeys that you out numbered 2 to 1 defeat you!"
(meekfluff) "Sir, you've seen our report. These aren't your normal land lubber monkeys. They didn't fight like normal Fudds and had a" (angerfluff/STOMP!) "traitor aiding them," Grouper replied.
"All of us will be reprimanded for this, IF we be fortunate."
Both Grouper and Catfish (shiverfluff)ed as Barracuda sent out the tightbeam.
*****TIGHTBEAM TO ADMIRAL MARLIN*****
(Salutefluff) Admiral, things have not gone as planned in Maine. The land lubbers have been able to hold off 200 o' our best buns, killing 48 with 4 unaccounted for. Another 20 will be on inactive duty for several days if not weeks due to various injuries. 20 o' me own crew also be dead. The monkeys also succeeded in sinking the Lobster Buoy as it landed on the shores o' the city.
(resignedfluff) I take full responsibility for this failure and recommend we begin to evacuate the civilians before the Fudds can organize a slaughtering party.
Commodore Barracuda
*****END TIGHTBEAM*****
[Battle o'Portland (22)--Epilogue]
Thirty miles (46km) inland at the Gray National Weather Service Office during the final battle:
"I don't get it Fred. I know we've got that new Dopplar system now, but why would the old radar down to Portland suddenly seize up facing east by southeast?"
"Obviously, it broke and we installed that new Dopplar system at the right time."
"Well you listen to this signal....I swear, it's Baroque!"
Somewhere in South Portland soon after the final battle:
(excitedfluff) "Where is everybun else?"
LT CrimsonPaw looked into the eyes of the excited kit before him. A tear welled-up in his eye. "Little one, the Fudds have killed them. All of them."
(STOMP!) "Then we shall kill them in return!" a buck called-out in the crowded meeting room of Sunsetwarren.
"We will! But not right now. As we speak, the buns From Away sent here from PAW are being slaughtered by the Fudds. Once again PAW has failed us! It's time we turn our back upon PAW as it has to Maine for far too long. Any day now, PAW will most likely order us to evacuate."
"We aren't leaving our home state because of a bunch of Fudds!" cried several in the audience.
"No, my brothers and sisters we aren't. But we must leave this region."
"But where shall we go?"
"To the western mountains. HERE!" CrimsonPaw pointed to Bowsbuck Mountain in remote northwestern Maine a few miles east of the New Hampshire border. "Here, we can live within our state without the Fudds knowing it. We can rebuild on our own without the interference of buns From Away and someday retake what the Fudds have robbed from us!" (STOMP!) "Are you with me?"
A resounding YES! echoed throughout the meeting room.
"Very well, gather what you can, we leave tomorrow evening."
LT CrimsonPaw began to gather together the 25 or so militia buns he had left behind before joining forces with the BunnyMarines. These were his most trusted friends and allies and the reason why he left them behind to protect the civilians of Sunsetwarren. Together, they would lead nearly 200 buns into the Maine Wilderness and then return to retrieve the necessary supplies to survive the first winter. PAW, most likely, would write Sunsetwarren off as another casualty of the war.
Portland Harbor, Coast Guard Dock a few hours after battle:
"We regret the loss of the Hannibal Hamlin and those sailors who gave their lives to protect the State o' Maine. Next of kin of sailors lost will be notified as soon as possible. We did succeed in sinking the smuggler's ship with all hands lost."
"Captain! What about the rumors we heard about killer rabbits?" the reporter asked. She shoved the Channel 13 microphone further in his face.
(SIGH) "Look, we had a hard time this evening with those drug smugglers. There WERE no rabbits. This whole incident had nothing to do with the filming of any movies or little green men from Mars. We had to deal with smugglers who happened to have a missle launcher on their boat, resulting in the destruction of the Hamlin before we in turn were forced to ram them and they sank quickly in 250 feet of water. Salvage operations will commence after the incoming weather blows over. No more questions."
Captain Grenier of the Chamberlain shut the door to his office in the face of the reporters and turned to face the 'civilian' before him.
"[PiG-13], you weren kidding Mr. Marcoux about killer rabbits."
"It's important that you don't tell your superiors about this incident, Captain."
"What, do you think I'm crazy? They'd drag me off to AMHI (Augusta Mental Health Institute) if I reported this, if I didn't disappear all together."
"The problem is that the devilbunnies as we call them may be back at any time and hit any where along the Maine coast."
Grenier looked Marcoux in the eye. "Tell your superior, SGT Pomerleau, or whatever his real name is, that as long as there is a Coast Guard in Maine, these rabbits won't have an easy time invading."
(Author's notes: I thank my Real Life™ brother, Chris, for his extensive contribution to this story and for his electronics expertise. I also thank everyone/bun at the Mass Gathering II for their ideas and encouragement.)