Watership

"Give me the carrot," Harry demanded, as he eyed the vegetable in the other rabbit's paws. How orange it looked, how crunchy it sounded as Felix's gnawed with his horrid, brown-stained teeth. Those teeth made him look stupid, stupider than the others, feral in their length and ridiculous in their crookedness.

Felix narrowed his red eyes and continued to gnaw. "No," he said plainly, his reedy voice muffled by a nearly-full gob of carrot chewings. The arrogance inflamed Harry, and he stamped his rear leg in annoyance.

"I said," he shouted, raising a forepaw, "give me the carrot!" He brought his furry little fist down across Felix's whiskered maw with such vengeance that there was an audible crack as the jaw dislocated. Slivers of saliva-soaked carrot shot from Felix's mouth, and his eyes widened in surprise and pain. A harsh rasping began in the wounded rabbit's throat, and the eyes bulged. Harry only grinned as the remains of the carrot fell from the clutches of his convulsing adversary. He plucked it up between his paws and gave it an exploratory nibble. Felix fell over on his side, one rear leg kicking back and drawing a little semi-circular trail in the dirt. He clawed at his throat with his paws, his pleading and grotesquely protruding eyeballs locked on Harry. But Harry did not meet the dying gaze, for he had turned away from the distasteful scene in order to better enjoy his meal.

The carrot was indeed as crispy and juicy as it had looked.


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