The Good, the Bad, and the Chibi: Part 4
A child of five could understand this. Fetch me a child of five.
- Groucho Marx
Sunday, 8:15 a.m.
Sunlight filtered into the room, warming her face even as she burrowed her beak under the covers. She didn't have to go to work today, and she wanted to sleep in. Besides, the sunlight might be warming her right now, but a quick hand-check of the room's temperature proved she was the only thing it was warming. She wasn't about to get out of a warm, comfortable bed if she didn't have to.
Click-whiiiiir. The unmistakable sound of a camera, complete with a bright flash that woke her more completely than the sunlight had. It occurred to her that aside from a strange dream where she, Squeaks, and the kiwis had been turned into kids she remembered very little of yesterday, right down to where, exactly, she was. No big deal she'd probably collapsed on one of the precinct's couches again. She did that a lot mostly when she was too exhausted to walk home. But that did not give her fellow officers permission to take pictures of her while she slept. She idly wondered if she'd been covered with pink fluffy bunnies or something to make such a shot worthy of the 'caught napping' board. She opened her eyes, determined to maim whoever it was with the camera.
Casey grinned at her. Hiya, Blue. Sorry to wake you, but this was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. You just looked so
Casey! she smiled sweetly, I am going to kill you! she added, just as sweetly. However, as she moved to get up, she felt something stir no, startle behind her, and she suddenly realized an arm was draped across her middle. Snapping her head around, she found herself beak-to-nose with Squeaks.
He blinked at her. His eyes widened.
Click-whiiiiir. Their expressions of shock and surprise were dutifully caught on film.
Bird and mouse turned to face the shutterbug, eyes narrowing. Squeaks' ears swept back.
Ferdia turned back to Squeaks. You hold him, I'll beat him.
Sounds like a plan.
Trevor looked around at the group. At some point during the night before the effects of whatever device of Newt's had turned them into children wore off someone had carefully wrapped Bob and Beak up in their sheets, coated the sheets with dough, and left them to cement. Now, instead of trying to keep Bob and Beak from bullying an Ivan protectively clutching an egg, he was trying to keep Bob and Beak from attacking an Ivan smugly chuckling as his sign holder kicked in the two's shins.
Ferdie was systematically documenting everything that had happened the day before, comparing events with the others while muttering something about selling the story to the sci-fi network. Iiwi was busily preening evidently she still had Chinese noodle sauce in her feathers and Newt was scribbling madly on a napkin, making complex calculations and integrations in his quest to decipher what, exactly, had happened, and why it had 'worn off'. Bobetta sat in a corner chair, sipping tea daintily and ignoring everyone in the room including her fiancé, who was currently being beaten with a sign.
Idly, Trevor wondered what was taking Casey so long. Surely, it couldn't be that hard to rouse their fellow officers.
Just then, a door slammed upstairs, followed by the sounds of several someones running full tilt. The stairs thundered briefly and he thought he heard the thup! of someone jumping a good number of stairs altogether and Casey shot through the foundling home's kitchen in a blur of orange feathers, headed for the back door.
Redwall! I am going to feed you that film! a voice shouted, seconds before Ferdia tore through the kitchen, Squeaks exactly two steps behind her.
Trevor laughed, watching as the pair ran after his fleeing partner. Nice to see you're back to your old selves again! he called.
And Now For A Word From Our Author:
Greetings! You have just read the shortest, strangest, and most ridiculous Bob Kiwi & Company fic that I have ever created! Congratulations on making it this far! This was really fun to do, and I have already been informed by Plague that it is one of the few PWP (Plot? What Plot?) stories out there that do not cross over into the citrus section. (She also said, and I quote, You are so evil it is astounding. I'm going to take this as a compliment.) Amazing! So! Comments, Questions, Flames, and Monetary Donations should be sent to Kitsume@hotmail.com.