June 21, 2017

Bugs Termagent razored his way efficiently into the space between the quarreling wolves. Raising his fist with its atrophied fingers into a gesture of dominance, he noted with satisfaction the wolves cringing and slinking away, lowered tails dragging along the pine needle carpet.

‘I would have sustenance!’ he shouted to his wife, Perennia, before taking a false step, tripping over a root hump and landing awkwardly, ripping his trousers in the process. Perennia bent double laughing.

Moral: At the peak of triumph, disaster often awaits.

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