Ahoy, Crypto Scouts!
Below is an excerpt from one of the few known surviving Br'er Jackalope tales...
THE TALE!
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"One morning, wily Br'er Fox was layin' low amongst the roadside briar, all wily-like. He was just waitin' for breakfast to come hoppin' along and drop into his scrawny lap. And soon enough, who came a boundin' down the lane? None other than good ol' Br'er Jackalope... carefree and whistlin' a merry tune through his big bucked lagomorph incisors. Br'er Fox waited, as only a Br'er Fox can, for EXACTLY the right time to pounce on his unsuspectin' breakfast. But as he sprang from cover, his bush-tail was caught fast in the thorny thicket of the briar patch.
Br'er Fox fought against the stubborn foliage, clawin' something furious and something fierce in the direction of the oblivious Br'er Jack. With a final huff 'n' puff, Br'er Fox was free from the trap, but his beautiful tail was torn clean off his backside and left dangling from the very thornbush he was hiding within only a scant moment before. The momentum caused poor Br'er Fox to careen into the closest tree... a tree which just so happened to harbor a nest of irritable honeybees (honeybees are naturally irritable, but nothing irritates them more than having their home upset)!
After the hive fell, struck the ground, and busted wide open, the stingin' insects were on Br'er Fox like flies on bear scat. Covered in merciless bees, the blinded fox howled and zig-zagged, zig-zagged and howled, punchin' at the swarm of pests (doing what swarms do) about his face, and thusly, punchin' hisself in his OWN face. Br'er Fox, unable to see any which way, tripped over the aforementioned briar thicket and tumbled (tail-less, bee-stung, and still quite hungry) off a nearby cliff, hittin' every rock on the way down, before landin' face-first in the largest AND smelliest (as the flies would testify) pile of Br'er Bear scat EVER exaggerated about.
Alarmed by the commotion behind him on the road, Br'er Jackalope turned to see what all the fuss was. At first, he was a bit annoyed to have his whistlin' so rudely interrupted (he did so love to whistle), but his mood was improved lickety-split. For there, as luck would have it, on the ground, was a deliciously oozy chunk of deliciously gooey honeycomb, with nary a bee about. How had he not noticed it before? As he snacked on the lip-smackin' sweet treat, he spotted something red and bushy tangled in the briar and he bounded over to investigate further. Whatever it was, it would make a great fly swatter. How fortuitous! After all, there WERE an awful lot of pesky flies in the area. 'Must be from all the bear scat', thought Br'er Jack..."
THE END!
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