Post by Nathan Saniti on Mar 13, 2015 18:51:45 GMT -5
Wabbit Season - Chapter Four
Nathan's world seemed to teem with enemies. Some, like Rasputin and Q, start as friends, become enemies, and then finally become friends again. Others start as Kelli Starr did, bitter enemies who become friends and much more. Either way, they rarely appear to stick around for long. Then there were those like the Black Hand, who aren't really enemies, and not really friends. They're just there for plot contrivance it seems.
"I have ya in my sights now," chittered a miniscule unseen voice as it lowered its weapon at an unsuspecting Nathan as they bade the helpful Bear and Stormm cloud adieu. "It won't be long now, and Deadline will claim another bounty." An evil laugh, or at least as evil a laugh as one could get from a psychopathic squirrel, bellowed from deep within him, causing him to lose his balance and fall from the perch he has been laying on. The perch wasn't thrilled about having a furry tree rat lay upon him anyways. It would have rather been swimming. That's what perches do. He fell with a whistle and landed with a thud, kicking up a cloud of debris akin to a small mushroom cloud. "Ow," was all his collapsed lungs allowed him in protest.
Nathan, Naomi and Rasputin studied the splintered makeshift signs past the point where there were yanked from certain doom underground. Banjoes and bickering continued to be the soundtrack as they contemplated whether or not to mosey on up to the disrepaired cracker box of a hut just past the signpost of "Hangtown."
Nathan looked at his travelling companions. "So... Whatcha think?" he inquired of them. "Should we go?"
Rasputin shook his ducky little bill, his wide-eyed expression showing no interest in meeting any more of the locals. "You're a magician, Nathan," he explained. "Why don't you jutht make a new Tarrant?"
"I haveta gather the essences first, Duck," he teased. "Besides, what kind of adventure would it be if I just poofed another one up?"
"Well, we're not getting anywhere just standing around here," reminded Naomi. "What are you waiting for? A High Tide to wash up a bouncy house?" Nathan and Rasputin blinked at her in silence. She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "It's a better segue to your match relevance than an elephant."
"She'th right, you know," agreed Rasputin. "We thouldn't be out here playing in cartoon land when you have a title on the line. Crathy Boy ith gunning for gold, and you have a hithtory with High Tide."
"Ah, don't worry about them," mocked Nathan, almost cockily. "I'll handle them the only way I know how; do my very best. Besides, if I lost the title, it might make your wishes come true, Rasputin."
"Oh?" He looked a bit caught off-guard by the remark. "How'th that?"
"It would be a fine excuse for us to abandon this outing and move on to something entirely other. Until then, shall we see if the local yokels have a cup of rabbit essence we can borrow?" Nathan stuck out his elbow, which Naomi took with a smile, returning the invitation to Rasputin. Hesitatingly , Rasputin intertwined his arm with hers and was immediately yanked down the road to exactly where he didn't want to go.
They skipped to a stop short of a stoop made of knotty, weathered pine, cracks and splits giving the porch (not perch) a much more weathered and disheveled appearance. Smack in the middle of the patio sat two straw-hatted hicks in tattered coveralls, a wad of chewing tobaccy in the cheek of each as they twanged their instruments. One man had hair as black as pitch, no rhyme or reason to its design. His elongated and pointy beard accentuated only by an equally stiff moustache, resembled a brillo pad that had been fastened and designed by a blind and rather upset barber with a gallon of super glue and no other hobby. The other man, who quite possibly was the brother of the first mirrored his companion in every way, save for the fact that his hirsuteness had a ginger tinge. Between the pair, they looked like they might have shared a half dozen teeth and an I.Q. to match.
"Pardon me fellas..." Nathan's request was cut short by a load of buckshot parting his ears and violently removing his hat.
"We don't much care fer interlopers 'round these parts," growled the auburn haired fellow. He spat a juicy wad of tobacco into the spittoon with a ring.
"Y'all pieces of crap," added the black haired counterpart with another ptooey-ring of mucus for exclamation.
"I'm already here, ya thundering lunkhead," barked the red-haired galoot to his brother. "No need ta summon me."
"Now look here, boys," Nathan muttered as he gathered and comforted his quivering, frightened hat. "We didn't come here for trouble. All we want is to know if you have any rabbit essence."
They looked at each other, and then back at the trio before them, no lights shining in their brain houses. Finally, Naomi rolled her eyes. "Carrot juice. Do you have any carrot juice?"
"Ruthuhthuh?" shouted the dark-haired one into the open window.
An unseen, raspy female voice called back, "Waddaya want, Biluhluh?"
"Do y'all have any of that there carrot juice?"
"If'n I had carrot juice, I'da had ya go hunt me a rabbit fer supper." She paused. Cans clinked and pans clunked as she rummaged through their cupboards. "Wait now. I think I found me some." A rather leathery looking female hand stretched through the portal, a can in tow. "Whatcha be needin' this fer?"
"Oh," started the redhead, "just a couple-a rabbits an' a duck wantin' ta borrey some."
"A couple-a rabbits an' a duck?" screamed the female, squeezing the can until it popped like a grape. Nathan quickly slung his hat under the contents as they gushed from their container, his hat happily devouring the essence as it fell. "Don't just sit there, Grimuhmuh! Get them varmints! Otherwise, we ain't gon' have nothin' ta eat!"
"I think that's our cue," stated Rasutin.
The two country bumpkins sprang to their feet, trading their banjoes for rifles in a flash. The fiery intent in their eyes glowed blood red as they targeted their guests. They looked at each other, shook beards with a nod, and began pursuit of the procrastinating prognosticator protagonists.
"Our business here is done. Let's go take our chances with the pirate and the lunatic, shall we?" Nathan turned his cotton tail, joined in short order by Naomi and Rasputin as they once again retreated into the woods.
