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Why it was Mr. McGregor in a T-34 tank with a transversable 85mm gun and two forward mounted 7.62mm machine guns!
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"Quick!" Peter implored him. "Lend me your Panzerfaust, for Mr. McGregor has a T-34 tank and will surely blast us all into bloody shards of flesh, bone and sinewy pulp if we are not careful, if we are not most circumspect!"
Tom Kitten gave Peter his anti-tank rocket launcher willingly for Mr. McGregor had scolded him once. But by the time Peter had returned to his cousin, Mr. McGregor had driven up the road and opened fire on Jemima Puddleduck, killing her instantly.
"Thank goodness you were not the least tardy!" cried Benjamin, as the turret of Mr. McGregor's tank slowly turned towards the humble abode of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle.
"Waste the fucker!"
Benjamin called out with the sensation of enjoyment. So Peter steadied the Bazooka on his shoulder and squinted one beady little rabbit eye down the sights.
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Now, rabbits eat lots of carrots and every child knows that carrots do your eyesight a power of good, so of course Peter did not miss.
Whooomph! Ka-Woooommmbbbb! The shaped charge rocket from the Panzerfaust slammed square into the cowling of the T-34's 12 cylinders Gaz diesel 500hp engine, sending fuel cascading everywhere!
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But oh dear! Mr. McGregor was trapped in the hatch of his burning Panzer tank and he was a-hollering and a-screaming fit to burst!
"Kill me, please!" he requested of the rabbits. "For I am trapped and sorely afraid that I shall slowly burn to death from the legs upwards!"
Benjamin Bunny raised his Scmeisser and pumped a full magazine into the distressed Mr. McGregor's head, thereby solving the pretty little pickle they had found themselves in!
All of a sudden, another hatch opened who should fly out but Mr. McGregor's cat! Now Benjamin's father had no opinion whatsoever of cats, but Benjamin was shit-scared of them and would have most surely voided himself in his attire had not the cat been one huge ball of flame and surely demising.
When Mr. McGregor's cat rattled and lay still, the two little rabbits exchanged salutes and promised to meet again next Thursday and then hurried back to their respective domiciles.
Oh dear! Old Mrs. Rabbit was distraught in the extreme when she learned what her naughty son had been about.
"How many times have I told you about blowing up tanks!" she chided. "You are a naughty, wicked rabbit!"
Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail who had not assaulted any armored vehicles were rewarded with fresh lettuce and carrots and radishes, but Peter was sent to bed without any supper.
But then, who wants to eat that rabbit food shit anyway?
The End
Piaciuta la storiella? A me fa schiantare.
P.S. Mi sono permesso di correggere alcune imprecisioni ed errori rispetto all'orginale (Il carro era un Tiger II, mentre nell'illustrazione è chiaramente un T-34, il Panzerfaust viene chiamato antitank gun, etc.)
1 commento:
Mi ha fatto ammazzare.
:-)
Si' hai fatto bene a correggere le imprecisioni.
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